


Waiting Game

by rochelleechidna



Series: Quarantine 2020 YGO Fics [1]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh the Abridged Series, Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Affection, Almost Kiss, Anachronistic, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempt at Humor, Banter, Best Friends, Blow Jobs, Consent, Dancing, Dry Humping, Feefshipping, First Kiss, First Love, First Time, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Grinding, Groping, Haircuts, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Innuendo, Kissing, Locked In, M/M, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay, Overstimulation, Pillow Fights, Pining, Rimming, Sexual Confusion, Sexual Frustration, Simultaneous Orgasm, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, YGOTAS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:29:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23446282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rochelleechidna/pseuds/rochelleechidna
Summary: The global lockdown left even the two thieves living Somewhere in Egypt quarantined in their desert home. It was just a matter of time before such close proximity over several weeks would lead to a change in their relationship – in more ways than one.
Relationships: Feefshipping - Relationship, Yami Bakura/Marik Ishtar
Series: Quarantine 2020 YGO Fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1740052
Comments: 51
Kudos: 54





	1. Safe and Sound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adding to the ever-growing pile of quarantine fics - at least this gave me an excuse to try writing Abridged-style, which proved to be both more fun and more emotionally draining than I'd expected. Who knew parody versions of YGO characters could actually bring out the softer side of me? Also, since the YGOTAS timeline has little consistency, I’m ignoring the fact that these two technically shouldn’t be living together in the year 2020. That said, hope this provides a distraction from all the current craziness!

The world was falling apart.

Actually, scratch that. It had been falling apart for millennia, but far be it for Bakura to argue that today’s troubles were any different than those from 5,000 years ago – or was it 3,000? He could never remember, bloody timelines.

No, instead it was more apt to say that the boy he begrudgingly called his partner-in-barely-counting-as-crime was falling apart more and more as each day passed, if his current pacing across the floor was any indication. The long, straight line maintained in Marik’s gait had been mildly annoying at first. But now that just barely audible mumblings had entered the mix, it began to genuinely irk the white-haired spirit who was sprawled across their too-small couch. He looked up from his book – had he even made any progress past page one? – and eyed the blond in irritation.

“Marik, you’ll drive a dent into the carpet at this rate. Stop.” How the pair’s underground home managed to have carpeting – much less cable TV, video games and Internet – Bakura had long ago ceased to question.

“This isn’t the time to stop, Bakura.” Ironically, Marik did pause – but only to stare as if in disbelief at the other man’s folly. “Don’t you see? Now is the _perfect_ opportunity for us to come up with a plan to defeat the Pharaoh once and for all!”

“And this plan will be different from all the hundreds of other brilliant schemes you’ve dreamt up because...?” Bakura tentatively lowered his book, eager to see how the answer he’d receive today might briefly entertain him.

“Because, Fluffy—” The spirit beamed inwardly at the ridiculous and affectionate nickname, but outwardly cringed to mask his emotions. “—We have all the time in the world now! Think about it. While the Pharaoh and his groupies stay huddled in their homes, scared out of their minds that they could be infected by corvids at any moment, they’ll never expect a surprise attack from the two of us! Ingenious, eh?”

The spirit chuckled and pondered – in order – whether Marik actually understood what groupies were, how he had somehow mistaken the bloody virus going around for crows and most importantly—

“Ingenious? I think not. You do realise whatever plan you come up with won’t work, right?”

“What do you mean ‘won’t work?’ Have a little faith, Bakura. We both know my plans are the best around!”

Far be it to argue the absurdity of that latter point right now. The spirit sighed, set his near-unread book down for good and sat upright to lock eyes with the Egyptian.

“Be that as it may, Marik, we’re stuck inside just like the rest of the world. I know we practically live under a rock, but even you have to realise that if we came up with the most dastardly, most cunning, most evil scheme of all time to defeat Yugi and his ‘groupies,’ we couldn’t leave this sodding hovel until we’re allowed back out by the sodding Egyptian government. And even if we managed to spend more than an hour outside, the sodding planes won’t let us leave the country right now because there are no sodding flights. And need I remind you, Marik, that the Pharaoh resides in Japan while we, for some bloody reason, live a whole sodding continent away!”

Marik seemed to consider Bakura’s words carefully. A twinge of hope that he’d finally gotten through to the blond entered the spirit’s head. Perhaps his partner's thick skull would finally—

“Silly, Kitty! We’ll just take my boat then!” Marik beamed and Bakura groaned – it had been too much to believe that this would be so simple.

“I think you missed the part where I said we’re not allowed out, Marik.”

“That’s not true! The TV said that we can be outside for a few hours. And TV never lies, Bakura! Even _you’ve_ gone out over the past couple days. More so than usual—” Sudden panic flashed across Marik’s eyes. “Are you seeing another villain? Is that where you’ve been going each afternoon?”

The fact that Marik was unexpectedly displaying a sign of jealousy amused Bakura to no end. So, naturally, he _had_ to play with the hand he’d been dealt. He smirked and leaned back into his spot on the couch like the “king” he was a lifetime ago.

“Yes, Marik, for the last few days I’ve made it very clear to you that I’d be heading out for half an hour, traveling Ra knows where in the middle of the Egyptian desert to meet with another sexier villain and returning after each illicit rendezvous with groceries and toiletries.”

Marik may have been dense, but even he couldn’t have missed the unsubtle sarcasm that coursed through the spirit’s voice.

“Fine, fine. But geez, Bakura, you didn’t have to say it like that.” Marik suddenly slumped down on the couch and crossed his arms in protest. His toned limbs brushed against Bakura’s pale skin, and the spirit had to physically stop himself from shivering in pleasure at the contact.

Even after all these years – again, bloody timelines mucking about, who knew how long it had really been – Bakura never could get over the brief touches and glances that the two of them exchanged on a day-to-day basis. What had started out as a mere fascination had grown rather quickly into a severe infatuation with the Egyptian boy. Though the white-haired spirit very much doubted his feelings would ever be returned, he regardless took any chance he could to be near that tanned skin, to catch a glimpse of those deep lavender eyes – to feel completely overwhelmed by the outlandish, energetic and alluring entity that was Marik Sebastian Ishtar III.

(Of course, Bakura also risked a fainting spell or a heart attack each time one of those moments popped up. But that was just a risk he was willing for his host to take. And somewhere in the back of his mind the spirit was sure he heard Ryou call out in severe protest, but he simply shrugged it off as white noise – an issue to be dealt with later.)

“Say what like what?” That was all Bakura could squeak out given his close proximity to the Egyptian. The spirit basked in the brief warmth of the other’s body – especially when compared to his own cool skin – and longed to feel more. Unfortunately, more didn’t seem to be in the cards this time, as Marik abruptly rose and resumed his earlier pacing – the boy hadn’t been able to stay still for even fifteen seconds.

“That hypothetical other villain-with-benefits of yours. Saying he’s sexier than me. We both know that’s impossible!” Marik kept eye contact with his partner as he wandered. Bakura could see that – in spite of the his typical boisterous and playful personality – there was a hint of genuine hurt in the blond's gaze.

Fuck. That wasn’t supposed to happen.

Truth be told, the main reason Bakura had even stopped the Egyptian's continuous pacing in the first place – ruined carpets and failed-from-the-start plans aside – was because he was worried about his partner. His friend. The realisation that he gave that much of a shit sent a chill down the spirit’s already icy spine.

“Marik, aside from you, me and however many Steves you have at your beck and call, do you really think there’s anyone else in this bloody desert worth getting to know so intimately?” Bakura half-hoped that the lovable idiot would pick up on the double-meaning of his final word. Bakura quickly remembered that he was just as much of an idiot to expect such an outcome.

“That’s my point exactly! You didn’t need to go and make up a frigging fake sexy villain boyfriend!”

So it had elevated from friends-with-benefits to boyfriend now, eh? Bakura mused at this rapidly changing scenario and marveled at how Marik’s wonderfully peculiar mind worked.

“What exactly is the matter, Marik?” The spirit only spoke again when he realised he had been staring too long at his friend’s frustratingly perfect face.

“Nothing’s the matter, Fluffy. Don’t be ridiculous.” As with many aspects of his life, Marik talked too quickly and too loudly. “I am the peak of physical health. How else could I have abs and a sexy ass like this?”

The blond gestured to his body, and Bakura had to resist the temptation to undress him with his eyes – a pastime he had been unable to avoid doing even more of since this federally-imposed lockdown had started.

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.” Ever the “adult” of the pair, Bakura internally fought hard to maintain his calm – and cold-hearted reputation. “Not that I particularly care, but you’ve been more on edge these past few days.”

At that, Marik turned away as he continued to pace, and fiddled with the Millennium Rod that he’d suddenly produced from his behind – or wherever he bloody well kept it. Surprisingly, the Egyptian didn’t speak, seemingly distracted by the item in his hand. He ran his graceful fingers across its smooth surfaces and sharp points. Bakura imagined those digits instead drifting over his own pale skin, grasping at silk sheets, clutching at white hair, reaching further down his comparatively lithe frame inch by torturous inch until—

“Look, it won’t do either of us any good to make plans we couldn’t possibly enact right now.” This wishful daydreaming was getting to be too much, and Bakura’s decision to stay put on the couch was firmly set – in more ways than one. So, of course, Marik just had to choose _that exact moment_ to walk back over and stare down at his partner.

“But we’re evil villains, Bakura! Since when do we care about what the law says?”

_Since you realised that seeing him in any pain just might break you._

Bakura’s eyes widened at the soft yet resolute voice of his host. The spirit was generally good at tuning out Ryou’s thoughts, but clearly the stress of this lockdown was affecting his concentration in more ways than one.

“Well, to be quite frank, Marik, if we’re stuck indoors for who knows how long, I’d much rather we both be healthy than have one of us tend to the other. I don’t plan on waiting on you hand and foot should you get sick. And we both know that you can barely look after yourself, much less another human being.”

“Hey!” Marik appeared taken aback in his usual dramatic fashion – Rod pointed straight down at Bakura’s face. The unintended symbolism almost made the spirit blush. Almost. “That’s not fair. You aren’t even all human anyway!”

“My point still stands.” Bakura waved off the blond’s comment and gently pushed the Rod aside. His efforts to cross his legs to conceal the growing tightness in his pants thankfully went unnoticed. “Besides, you know how obvious those sickfic tropes are, especially with the fangirls. Wouldn’t want to put your sexuality on the line, would you?”

Marik let out a sound that Bakura could only call a stifled choke, and retracted the Rod so it disappeared behind him again – wherever “behind him” was. The blond then marched with purpose to their sad little kitchen that was hardly used for actual cooking and began to ransack all the cabinets. The spirit cocked an eyebrow and opened and closed his mouth several times before finally getting up to join his partner. Thankfully, his not-so-little “problem” from before – with some quick adjusting of jeans and cleverly placed hands – had subsided. For now.

“Dare I ask what you’re doing?” Bakura noted a large heap of snacks and toiletries had already amassed in the center of the kitchen floor.

“Stockpiling, Fluffy! We need to take inventory of what we have.” Marik didn’t even give a passing glance to Bakura, but continued emptying the cabinets like it was his sole focus.

“Marik, I just said I’ve been making sure we have plenty of supplies to last us for several weeks.” Bakura leaned against the counter in slight exasperation, then smirked. “You know, courtesy of that sexy villain boyfriend you kindly concocted for me.”

The Egyptian shot Bakura a look that nearly shook him to his core – it was an expression all-too-similar to that fiend who resided in his partner’s soul. But the presumed danger passed after a brief moment, and Marik’s wide eyes instead took in the sight of his mountainous pile. He motioned wildly as he moved from section to section.

“Well, looks like we still need… chips! Lots of chips, Bakura. It’ll be a bonafide chip factory down here! Or, I guess you’d call them crisps, being British and all—”

“Marik.”

“And more toilet paper! Geez, you can never have enough of that stuff, right? Especially with how many times _you_ wake up in the night—”

“Marik."

“Holy crap in a bucket, we don’t have any frigging hand sanitizer! Guess we’ll need to go out and get—”

_“Marik!”_

The boy finally stopped his incessant babbling. But instead of silence filling the room, in its place was Marik’s semi-ragged breathing – in typical fashion, the blond had worked himself up too much. Bakura immediately softened and spoke in as serene a voice as he could muster.

“There’s nothing to worry about. I already prepared everything.”

But nothing could have prepared Bakura for what the object of his affections said next.

“Why couldn’t I go outside, too?”

Oh. So _that_ was the issue. The spirit could have smacked his head for not realising it sooner.

“I don’t want you getting sick.” It was the truest statement Bakura had uttered in a hundred lifetimes – it almost left his mouth too easily.

“And it’s better to risk _your_ life, Fluffy?” Every once in a blue moon, Marik was capable of logic. Unfortunately for Bakura, this was one of those moments. There was no good explanation. He’d just done what he always did – look out for the Egyptian for whom he’d inexplicably and miraculously fallen.

“I wouldn’t put it so melodramatically.” The white-haired wisp of a man hesitantly moved into his friend’s space. “My host’s body is more… You haven’t been exposed to… Marik, I—”

“You haven't even been wearing a frigging mask! But, I mean, it’s like you said. There’s no one out here except us and the Steves. Though, I guess even _they_ have to stay six feet away now.” The blond seemed to speak before his mind could process the words – a rambling Marik usually meant a panicked Marik. “And, anyway, it’s not like it’d be the worst thing in the world if I caught the crow virus. Nothing can defeat the great Marik Ishtar! I’m young and healthy, and being sick is still better than—”

As if a light switch had been flicked on in his head, Marik’s demeanour grew uncharacteristically gloomy – his face became a blank and his breathing turned slow and laboured. Bakura felt as if the heart he’d so long thought dead might actually break.

“Marik, trust me when I say you don’t know what it’s like to be sick. Not like that.”

Vague images of a long-lost existence appeared in Bakura’s mind – of not only raging fires and the smell of burning flesh, but also of dark nights during the years afterwards spent coughing his lungs out and shivering in agony. Alone. Utterly alone.

_He’s just a scared kid. Like you were, I suppose._

For once, Bakura didn’t see fit to argue with his host’s voice ringing through his head. Without a second thought, the spirit bridged the space between himself and Marik to take the blond’s face into his hands. He brought their noses close together and rubbed them gently.

“Bakura, what are you doing?” Despite the trepidation in Marik’s voice, he didn’t pull away – on the contrary, his anxiety seemed to vanish at the intimate act.

“One of the few things I can remember that brought me calm eons ago.” Bakura couldn’t even tell if he was being honest, saying something just as an excuse to be close to Marik – or if he genuinely had the compelling need to _bring some Gods buggering comfort to this boy right the fuck now._

“Odion and Ishizu used to do something like this. Back when they weren’t such goody two-shoes.” Marik seemed to smile at the memory. “But it’s nice. From you, I mean.”

The Egyptian closed his eyes and returned the gesture, rubbing their noses even closer so that their lips were mere inches apart. The earlier threat of a heart attack rose in Bakura again – damn his limey of a host’s stupid hormone-addled body.

“I’m not asking you to confront your mortality, Marik. Or, bugger, even your sexuality. Just—”

Bakura felt he shouldn’t push his luck, so resigned himself to simply wrapping his arms around Marik’s slim waist and burying his head in a tan shoulder among golden strands of hair – careful to steer clear of the Egyptian's back. He was sure the image looked pitiful in a way – him, an aged and vindictive spirit wearing a borrowed body, embracing a gorgeous would-be Pharaoh in the middle of a kitchen now littered with Twinkies and Bounty.

In other words, it was more than the thousands-year-old spirit could have ever hoped for.

“I don’t like this. Feeling trapped.” Bakura at first thought his partner meant the hug and so loosened his grip, but only held tighter once he heard the addendum from Marik’s mouth. “Frigging crows.”

Bakura couldn’t help but snicker – a noise that caught in his throat when he felt warm arms match the embrace around his own bony shoulders. This was the closest the spirit had been to any one person since he'd lost his family, and he knew he needed to keep talking lest he get too caught up in the feeling and do something stupid. Stupid _er_ , at least.

“This won’t be so different from our usual routine.” Reassurance was certainly not Bakura’s forte – but bugger, it didn’t hurt to try. “There’s plenty we can do in here to keep even _your_ hyperactive mind entertained.”

“But no Evil Council meetings? No Steves to do the smelly chores? No Slenderman to— actually, that’s probably for the best, the guy gives me the willies.”

“There you go.” Marik seemed to relax with each passing moment in Bakura’s arms, and the spirit realised it was impossible to hold back the swell of emotion building in his chest. “I don’t know how long this will last, Marik. But we’ve faced worse before.”

More images of a wild-haired and maniacal version of the Egyptian entered Bakura’s head, and as if by a shared connection via the hug—

“That’s what I’m afraid of. He came out before. When I—” Marik’s voice was so quiet, Bakura wasn’t sure if he was meant to hear the words.

The blond held his partner’s body even tighter. The spirit felt hot breath on his neck and ears and long eyelashes fluttering against his cheek and Gods he wanted to push Marik against the counter and remove all the stress from his flawless body by lavishing it with the attention it so deserved. 

“He won’t get to you. What happened in the past is done. It’s different now.” Bakura spoke at a volume meant only for Marik’s ears. “This time, I’m here.”

“Bakura.” The Egyptian pulled away and stared intently at the spirit, as if deep in thought. A blush – presumably a deep one if it appeared on such tanned skin – made its way across Marik’s face, which now also sported half-lidded eyes and slightly parted lips.

“Marik?”

For a moment, the spirit considered finally giving in to what he’d desired for so long. Marik was right there, all but asking for him to make the move. There was no way he could be reading the situation wrong, right? He leaned in an inch and was stunned as the Egyptian matched his movements, when—

“You put up with a lot from me, don’t you, Bakura?” The blond abruptly drew back. Give it to Marik to decide that _this_ was the moment to become self-aware.

Bakura sighed and smiled sadly. He sensed it would be a long time before normalcy would return – when he and Marik could resume their evil plotting and massive failing and getting back up and doing it all over again. But the most the two thieves could do now was lie low, wait the invisible storm out and see what would happen over the coming weeks.

And Bakura tried not to get his hopes up as he realised – arms still wrapped tight around the slightly taller frame of his partner – that he wasn’t _just_ thinking about it all in the context of the disease plunging the world into chaos outside.

“What can I say, Marik?” Bakura pulled the Egyptian back into their earlier position and whispered into his intoxicatingly fragrant hair. “After millennia of vengeful plans, silent torture and broken contracts... I don’t mind your chaos.”


	2. Distance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've noticed that it feels strange for me to write the name “Marik,” especially after I found a document from 2007 where I ranted about how it "took away from his brownness” – 15-year-old me was wild, y’all. Anyway, I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, as I got to explore some ideas that I'd not seen done in fics with these two before – plus, there are some lines of dialogue here with which I'm a bit too pleased. Hope everyone enjoys this next installment in the adventures of ( _really_ failing at) social distancing!

The bowl of half-eaten cherries and mass of stems lined up on the floor really should have been the hint to Bakura to just walk back into his bedroom and forget he’d seen anything amiss.

Instead, curiosity got the better of him and he approached the table where Marik sat. The blond had planted himself cross-legged on a swivel chair, the computer in front of him opened to ten-too-many tabs and his headphones jacked in so that the spirit could hear the audio of a tacky pop song pouring out like a muted nightclub - Bakura half-wondered when it had become socially accessible to allow Selena Gomez to sing over a Talking Heads bass line, before realising he didn't actually care.

It had been two weeks since the Egyptian’s mini-breakdown in the kitchen and – while not every day went smoothly – things had been relatively calm. Sometimes lagging, oftentimes unmemorable. But never boring. Not with Marik as a roommate.

They’d passed the days watching crap TV, eating far too many snacks and playing whatever games they could find – but not Duel Monsters, as Bakura refused to take any part in the dreaded game when he wasn’t “on the clock,” contracts be damned.

Early on, the spirit had even allowed for a few moments of opening the door to their home just so Marik could breathe in the fresh air and take in the sight of the desert and be consoled that, yes, the world was still there waiting for him when this craziness was over. But afterwards, the blond had locked himself in his room and refused to speak or eat anything for nearly a full day. Bakura then decided that perhaps it was too cruel to offer the temptation of freedom when he bloody well knew it was not his to give.

If only the temptation of Marik could be rectified for the spirit – he’d underestimated how being in such close proximity with his partner 24/7 would affect him. Sure, they were nearly inseparable anyway. But now that they weren’t leaving their home – and especially after the clear misgivings the Egyptian had seemed to have of their almost-kiss a couple weeks before – it became a daily battle to keep his distance and avoid any contact, any words, any _thing_ that might make the blond uncomfortable. It was a battle usually hard-lost each night before Bakura slept. And during every shower in the morning. And anytime else in-between.

At least today had been uneventful thus far. Though, the spirit noted that – unlike most other days – Marik hadn’t been pestering him with ideas for “house adventures” they could embark upon, and he was dressed down more than normal in just a tank top and sweatpants. Not that Bakura could complain – he himself, already not one to give much care to a daily beauty regimen, had stuck with the same three t-shirts since the lockdown began.

Bakura was about to make his presence known to the Egyptian when his eye caught sight of the YouTube tutorial displayed on the computer screen. And then his gaze wandered back to the bowl of cherries that Marik’s hand now reached into. Almost too provocatively, he bit into the fruit, grimaced and picked off the stem to stick in his mouth as he watched the screen with intense focus.

Bakura suddenly understood what his partner was up to, and couldn't have found it any more amusing. His sudden eruption of laughter nearly scared Marik half to death – and, in all likelihood, made him swallow the stem. The blond gagged for a moment, flailed in his chair and fell right onto his impeccable bottom.

“Holy frig, Bakura! Give an evil mastermind a little warning!” Marik coughed and rapidly tried to get up from his compromised position to close out the computer’s tabs and hide the cherries – tasks that ended in immediate failure when the Egyptian stumbled over his headphones and slipped on the fidgety swivel chair.

“Oh? Up to much villainy today, Marik?” Bakura eventually took pity on his partner and helped him up – but only after a few more moments of basking in his utter ridiculousness. 

“Y-yes. Much evilness! The most diabolical of all. When am I not?” Even Marik sounded like he knew the lie wouldn’t hold water. Bakura grinned widely, and sauntered past his friend and over to the computer.

“If it’s so wicked, then I suppose, one villain to another, you wouldn’t mind if I—”

“No, Fluffy!” Marik ran in front of Bakura and sat down right on the table, blocking all sight of the computer. “It’s— it’s too scary for you.”

“For a vindictive Egyptian spirit?” Bakura couldn’t help but keel over laughing again. “Marik, need I remind you—”

“Look, just— just give me a minute, alright? Then you can have the computer if you want. Frigging spoilsport.” Marik looked a touch despondent, so Bakura – ever aware of the blond’s sudden mood swings – changed tact.

“I’m actually much more interested in these.” Bakura stepped right into Marik’s space and picked a cherry out from the bowl. He toyed with the bright red thing in-between his white fingers – the contrast in colour pleased him a bit too much. “I had no idea about your preferences regarding fruit. I’ll need to buy us more.”

“Yeah. Fruit. Gotta love that... fruit.” Marik tried – quite unsuccessfully – to kick the bits of cherries and stems away from view around the table. Bakura just chuckled at the pitiful sight and eyed his own cherry. This was getting to be too much fun – it was like things were back to normal again, sly innuendos and all.

“So, cherries, Marik? Why cherries?” To punctuate the point, Bakura held the stem in his fingers and slowly bit off the fruit. He maintained eye contact with Marik as he chewed – acting as sensuous as one could while eating a bloody cherry.

“You know, cherries.” Watching Marik stumble over his thoughts with such a bewildered expression was far too amusing - adorable even. “I mean— they’re red. Like blood. Which is an evil thing. And— knives, yeah, knives— knives draw blood. Which is red. You like knives, right, Bakura?”

“Mm.” Bakura swallowed and made a point of sticking his tongue out to place the stem atop - the flustered look on Marik’s face when the spirit closed his mouth again was priceless.

“And— and, you know. They’re small. So you can eat as many of them as you want. No chance of getting fat with these little guys!" Marik seemed to gain back some semblance of confidence, and Bakura nodded as if in agreement.

“Well, Marik—” Bakura had to break up his speech as he moved his tongue around the stem. “—I wasn’t aware of your fondness for having small things in your mouth.”

“Bakura! That’s your worst gay illusion yet!” Bakura internally sighed at the unintended double-meaning of Marik’s word choice, and leaned in as close as he'd dare to the blond - he felt hot, nervous breath and caught sight of dilated lavender pupils.

“Personally, so far as fruit—” The spirit made a show of removing the now perfectly-knotted stem from his lips and placing it on the table next to an utterly gob-smacked Marik. “—I prefer citrus myself.”

With that, Bakura turned heel as if nothing at all unusual had just happened and walked into the kitchen to make some tea. As he watched the water boil in the kettle, he could almost hear the cogs turning in Marik’s head in the other room – and knew this was yet another example of many, _many_ “incidents” that would remain unspoken.

 _That wasn’t very nice. Do you plan on using more of_ my body’s _party tricks to get his attention?_

Bakura waved away his host’s chastising and grabbed a half-clean mug from the dishwasher. Yes, maybe it _had_ been a little mean. But considering the sheer torture the spirit endured of living with such an oblivious roommate and being unable to ever act on his feelings – especially for these last couple weeks – the spirit didn’t feel too guilty. He’d take the scraps he could get. It’d never lead anywhere because he knew it couldn’t ever be serious. At least not for Marik.

* * *

A week or so after what Bakura had termed “the un-popped cherry incident,” all seemed normal as ever between himself and the Egyptian.

By now, they had settled into a routine – meagre as it was – of Marik waking up early in the morning to fix a “breakfast” of pop tarts and burnt toast, Bakura sauntering in hours later to drink a single cup of black coffee, the two of them talking about whatever inane topics crossed their slowly degrading minds, _maybe_ showering and _probably_ getting dressed in the same clothes they’d worn dozens of times already and spending the rest of the day lounging about and eating junk food like the couch potatoes they were.

In short, it was clear that their lack of movement wasn’t doing them any favours and that something had to change - at least according to Marik.

So when the spirit woke up much earlier than usual one morning to the sound of “Can’t Get You Out of My Head” ringing throughout their abode, he could only guess what image would greet him once he opened his bedroom door. Sure enough, in the living room was Marik – plate of scrambled eggs and hash browns in hand – swaying in time to the beat. Surprisingly, when he caught sight of a very drowsy Bakura making his way over, the blond didn’t flinch in embarrassment.

“Someone’s a grumpy Kitty this morning!” Marik pat Bakura’s fluffier-than-usual bedhead to punctuate the point, then turned around and swiveled his hips as he brought over a plate of bacon, toast and lemon slices. “Our sexy figures will suffer if we don’t exercise and eat right, Fluffy! And see? I remembered you saying how much you liked citrus.”

The blond winked a bit too innocently and continued his dance. Bakura could only hold his plate and wonder at what was happening. His head was spinning from the early wake-up and the break in their routine and the sights and sounds surrounding him - so he simply sat down on the couch before he could question anything and began to eat a bit too quickly. The spirit finished his first proper meal in weeks - wondering all the while who the bloody hell Marik thought actually _ate_ lemon slices - by the time Kylie faded out and “I Need You Tonight” began to play through their heretofore unused sound system.

“Oooo, I _love_ this one, Bakura! The ‘80s had the best music, you know!” Marik giggled like a schoolgirl and nearly threw his own plate down to really get into the groove. Bakura ventured to remind the blond that he wasn't even born during the decade in question - or had he been? Bloody timelines again - but lost all train of thought as he watched him get lost in his dance.

Say what you would about the Egyptian, he knew how to move his body – much to Bakura’s pleasure _and_ irritation. He and Marik had both moved up from wearing sweatpants to shorts in recent days, so any sort of visual stimuli – _like what was happening right fucking now_ – was bound to make Bakura’s already rock-hard morning wood even more obvious. He was half-tempted to excuse himself and take care of the matter in the bathroom when—

“Bakura! The whole point is to move, not stare like a frigging guppy!” Marik towered over Bakura, hands on his hips.

Fuck. He’d been staring. Again. Fuck.

“Not all of us are morning people, Marik.” Bakura crossed his legs and used his plate to hide the growing erection in his shorts.

“Nonsense! We’ve been sitting on our finely-toned asses far too long. We may not be plotting ways to beat the Pharaoh, but that’s no excuse for laziness!” Marik suddenly grabbed the spirit’s hands and lifted him up – forgetting that the Egyptian was stronger than he looked. Bakura crashed into the blond and prayed to the gods he’d never believed in that the material covering his bottom half was thick enough to hide his erection.

“I— You know I don’t dance, Marik.” Bakura was sure he looked flustered – something about the food and the energy radiating from his partner and the general positive atmosphere wasn’t helping matters. And it _especially_ didn’t help when the song changed yet again, this time to Savage Garden’s “I Want You.” Fuck these bloody suggestive, anachronistic songs.

“Don’t be silly, Bakura. There’s no one watching.” Marik leaned in as if whispering a secret. “It’s just us.”

Unsure how that was supposed to be in any way reassuring, Bakura nevertheless borrowed some of Marik’s confidence and tried desperately not to think too hard about the on-the-nose lyrics sounding off the walls. He lifted his arms, tentatively rocked to the beat of the ‘90s track – wasn’t it decades after this song was a hit? Bloody sodding timelines – and subconsciously copied the blond’s movements.

Marik seemed genuinely upbeat – the most he had in weeks – and never once wavered in his gaze at the spirit. It was like being under a microscope, yet Bakura didn’t mind the close examination. It also gave ample opportunity for him to really study the face of the Egyptian – even unadorned with makeup or jewelry and with his hair tousled from sleep, the blond looked stunning. That should have caused a surge of self-consciousness, but instead Bakura felt invigorated at seeing a side of his partner that few had probably ever known. His mounting hard-on be damned – Bakura was a thief, and he would take what he could get from this small, teasing moment.

And then something changed.

By the second chorus, Marik’s eyes were closed and his fingers ran feather-light along Bakura’s shoulders, arms and hands before gingerly holding his waist. Bakura – suddenly feeling braver – rested his own hands around the blond’s shoulders and toyed with the thin straps of his tank top. The spirit wasn't entirely sure who made the next move, but somehow the Egyptian’s body turned so it faced away and was pushed flush against Bakura’s – all the while swaying together like before, just with the added pressure on the spirit’s chest and groin. Bakura’s breath caught, and he worried he might _actually_ faint this time, if not from the closeness then from the blood rushing to his cock – he could feel Ryou roll his eyes internally.

_For the record, while it’s nice to see you get so worked up, especially considering the immense danger you always put me and my friends in… I’m glad you have this chance to feel human again. Like the rest of us._

The spirit was aware of his host's words and found them oddly reassuring. But he was too focused on the dance – on the irresistible blond grinding against him, whether he was aware of it or not – to reply. It was mere moments but felt like a blissful eternity – Marik’s fingers placed on the spirit’s hip and caressing his face and neck, Bakura’s hands gripping the Egyptian’s waist from behind before slowly moving over his stomach and chest. The spirit wasn’t sure if this was yet another “incident” waiting to happen or something more genuine, but either way – as the song said – he’d die to find out.

The spirit brought one hand up to gently stroke Marik's bare collarbone, and snaked his other hand down to just barely touch in-between the Egyptian’s legs. The light brush against satin - _of course_ it would be satin - brought forth a small gasp from the blond's lips, and he subconsciously ground harder into his white-haired partner. Bakura's eyes grew wide at this development, and he found himself impossibly aroused - he had planned on a full-stop to the whole thing in the event that the touch was unwelcome, but now he had all the confirmation he needed to continue.

With care, he palmed Marik’s obviously-hard shaft through his shorts and pressed slow, feathery kisses to his shoulder. Bakura didn’t dare go farther than this – just enjoying the quiet yet sensuous moans of the Egyptian who'd now slightly arched his back and began to tremble underneath his touch. The spirit sensed the blond's growing need and picked up his ministrations. His movements became more intentional, more giving - more like he was touching his best friend in the intimate way that he'd only ever dreamed about. Bakura didn’t even realise that he too was making soft coos of enjoyment until he saw Marik open his now glazed-over eyes and glance behind him, lips parted and breathing slightly ragged. Panic suddenly coursed through Bakura’s veins – had he overstepped a line?

“Is this okay?” The spirit breathed more than spoke the words, utterly stunned at how seemingly turned on Marik was. The blond didn't speak - probably _couldn't_ speak if he wanted to, he looked so overwhelmed with desire. Instead, he took his own fingers off of Bakura’s hip to meet the hand at his crotch. He guided Bakura off the front of his shorts to rest his partner's fingertips just under the edge of the satin waistband. The spirit's breath hitched in anticipation - had Marik _ever_ allowed anyone this level of closeness before now? But Bakura felt the Egyptian give a squeeze of encouragement to his hand. Without a second thought, he took the cue - and heard Marik nearly scream in abject desire when he ventured further down to wrap his fingers around the Egyptian's cock.

The spirit’s tongue now ran along up to the base of Marik’s neck, and his kisses became urgent sucks and bites – he was sure deep purple marks would be left, but Marik didn't sound like he much cared at the moment. Bakura’s free hand moved to stroke the exposed skin around the blond’s midriff before reaching up to play with a nipple underneath the tank top. The hand down Marik’s shorts – barely able to hold the entirety of his partner’s above-average length – moved quickly and with a firm grip, spreading a surprisingly generous amount of precum over the shaft to make it slick. A particularly swift brush of fingers against the leaking tip earned Bakura an almost pornographic groan from the blond.

“Bakura… more...” Marik sounded lost in the moment, and Bakura was only happy to oblige his friend’s request - especially when he heard his name called out so sensually. He kept his wrist as loose as possible and jerked his hand even faster - bringing forth gradually louder wails of ecstasy from his partner. His hand occupied by the nipple toyed with it gently before giving a sharp - but not too rough - twist. The spirit wasn’t sure how much longer he could take without some attention to his own erection, but he felt Marik growing closer and closer to release and—

Suddenly, the Egyptian had pushed away from their entanglement and was staring straight at Bakura, his flustered face holding a look of confusion and vague tension.

“I— Bakura, we—” Marik took in slow gasps of air – still shuddering from unsettled jolts of pleasure – but left his thoughts unfinished. He merely shook his head as if getting rid of a bad thought and rushed to take their breakfast plates into the kitchen.

Bakura couldn’t move – he could barely breathe. Had he done something wrong? Crossed a boundary that his partner – his friend – wasn’t ready for or hadn’t expected? Marik had seemed so eager, so on-board with the sudden change in mood this time. But the way the blond had said his name just now – he’d _never_ said it with such solemnity, it was a complete one-eighty from the genuine cry of pleasure just a moment before.

The spirit fell back into the couch and tried not to think. When Marik crossed his eye-line again, Bakura attempted a quick “thank you” for the food, but couldn’t even get the words out. The sound of a door shutting – but not slamming – sounded down the hall. He knew the blond well enough to know he'd hole himself up for Ra knew how long - and deep down, he knew the length of time didn't particularly matter, seeing as they were _both_ stuck inside anyway. Just his buggering luck.

The song had ended long ago. But Bakura wished – almost as much as he did for revenge against the Pharaoh or for more of the screen time he was promised in his bloody contract – that the moment could have played on forever.


	3. Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this was an emotional rollercoaster to write. Is it the quarantine getting to me? The lack of normalcy? The fact that today is my first wedding anniversary and my spouse is stuck abroad because visas aren't available? Who's to say. Anyway, this fic was originally meant to be three chapters – with two / three and four / five combined – but I decided halfway through writing to divide it into five parts instead. Besides, this way we have more chapters, and who _doesn't_ want excess Abridged!thieves in their lives?

The next several days were among the hardest in Bakura’s life – and considering the tragedies that had befallen him over the past thousands of years, that was saying something.

Aside from a couple times each afternoon when Marik would pop out of his bedroom to grab some snacks or use their shared bathroom, Bakura had barely seen the blond since their impromptu “dance and hand job incident.” They did not speak and – while he sensed the occasional passing glance aimed in his direction – the spirit did his best to avoid any eye contact. But in those few rare moments he _had_ caught a glimpse of the Egyptian’s face, it held not a look of anger or sadness – in fact, for the first time since he’d known him, Bakura couldn’t quite figure out _what_ Marik was feeling.

The idea that he was cut off from his best friend was comparable to the torturous solitude of living inside the Ring for millennia. Yet it somehow felt better to be locked in an inanimate object’s dark void with only a demon for company than to be trapped in a home surrounded by memories of the one person he’d given a damn about since his family had been murdered – especially when said person was _so close by_.

It was a shock to Bakura, then, when he returned from a brief venture outside one afternoon – his first in weeks to get more food, in the middle of a sandstorm, like an idiot – and saw Marik dressed in his normal lavender top with his jewelry and makeup, sat upon their couch as the TV blared ahead. The spirit removed his mask - worn more to fight against the raging sands than the disease grinding the world to a halt outside - and tried to play it cool as he put away the fruits and vegetables and healthier snacks he’d bought.

_You can’t put this off forever, you know. It won’t do to just wait for the crisis to pass._

_Which one_ , the spirit mused. He sighed at Ryou’s unwavering astuteness. Bakura was taking his time, mainly because he wanted to prolong the inevitable – he and Marik _had_ to talk about what had happened, what had gone wrong. The spirit hated the idea of feeling guilty for anything, and this foreign sensation in his chest was getting to be too much to endure – but the idea of receiving any further rejection from his best friend was almost more unbearable.

When he finally entered the living room, Marik didn’t look at him - he was seated on one end of the couch, so Bakura plopped himself down in the middle.

“Six feet away, Bakura.” The unusually deadpan voice caught the spirit off-guard, but he regardless moved to the other side – the couch was barely four feet long, much less six, but that was neither here nor there.

“I was only gone for twenty minutes, Marik, and I washed my hands thoroughly when I came back. I highly doubt I caught the crow virus, as you call it.” Bakura smiled a bit at the memory of when the blond had first made the mix-up. The spirit yearned for those simpler days, even if they’d only been a few weeks ago – to go back to just secretly pining for the Egyptian and not letting his buggering emotions seep through because of the pressure from the unforeseen lockdown. “Look, Marik, I think we—”

“Bakura, do you mind? I’m watching TV.” Marik still refused to look at his partner, face locked in concentration on the screen – and it was only then that Bakura actually followed his gaze to the TV.

Oh, bloody fucking hell. Since when did Marik have any interest in _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_?

And _of sodding course_ this was the episode where Spike finally revealed his feelings towards the titular slayer – season 5 episode 14, Bakura recalled much to his chagrin, having seen the series far too many times through his host’s eyes. Of all the things for Marik to watch. Had the atmosphere in the room been any different, the spirit would have laughed at the inanity of the situation. Surely this was a coincidence, right? His partner wouldn’t _really_ draw parallels between fictional characters and whatever their relationship was – even if said fictional characters were a centuries-old white-haired British demon in a black trench coat and a precociously spunky younger blonde tasked with carrying a heavy birthright from an early age. Yup, no similarities there – the spirit could have banged his head against the wall at the obviousness of the situation.

The show played out, and Bakura fixed his gaze back onto a very-entranced Marik. He wanted to see the Egyptian’s reactions as Buffy grappled with Spike’s confession, as the slayer reasoned that a lack of a soul meant he could never love, as the vampire swore he’d kill his former partner just to prove his affection, as he was physically cut out from the main character’s life by the episode’s end. Marik didn’t speak as the credits rolled, but his face seemed to have at least softened from the previous days - this was Bakura's chance.

"Marik, I—"

"I'm still watching, Fluffy." The pet name triggered a slight increase in Bakura's pulse, but he was also genuinely annoyed that the conversation he'd worked himself up to clearly wasn't going to happen.

With a huff, the spirit rose and spent the next several hours trying to read, trolling the Internet and failing to cook dinner - all while keeping a watchful eye on Marik's TV viewing. It seemed as if his partner was trying to get through every single episode that dealt with the "Spuffy" relationship, from the hate-fucking to the genuine love - was the blond trying to work something out about himself and Bakura?

Finally, the last episode finished, and the spirit dropped whatever he was doing to resume his seating position from earlier. Marik released a breath that Bakura didn’t even know he’d been holding and finally turned so their eyes met. But instead of speaking, the room filled with an uncomfortable silence for several minutes as both fiends awkwardly shifted in their seats.

“So. Did you learn anything?” The spirit knew it was a stupid question, but it was the only thing he could think to say - and the idea of the quiet continuing any further only reminded him of the silent treatment he'd received the rest of the week.

“I— You know this sort of thing is hard for me, Fluffy.” Bakura had expected the usual inane retort from the blond, and so wasn’t prepared for the genuine answer he freely gave.

“This lockdown is hard on everyone, Marik. We’re not the only ones—”

“No, not that! I mean, don’t get me wrong, it still frigging sucks being stuck inside all the time. But… I mean you. Us.” The spirit was stunned at how sincere Marik looked – the most he'd displayed of that particular emotion since the day they’d first met. The sight was almost comforting, and Bakura had to breathe slowly to keep the emotions swelling in his chest under control.

But without any warning, he found his view rapidly shift to the ceiling – and then to Marik wavering above as he entered his eye-line. The blond looked down as if unsure what had happened – as if _he_ hadn’t been the one to push his partner back onto the couch – but remained resolute as he traveled further down Bakura’s body and felt at his belt. The spirit could only let out a strange combination of a gasp and a choke. Based on the look in his friend's eye - and the copious amounts of cable-approved sex that he'd just consumed - Bakura sensed where this was going. He felt himself instinctively grow hard at the thought, but for once—

“Marik.” Bakura’s tone was stronger than he meant it to be, but he couldn’t help it when he felt fingers quickly undoing the buttons on his jeans and pulling them down.

“It’s okay, Fluffy. It was only a matter of time.” The spirit glanced away from the spots on the ceiling to take in the sight of a very flushed and nervous Marik, eyes cast down on the task literally at hand. He continued to speak as he slowly lowered Bakura’s underwear. “You’re always getting after me about my yaoi collection. I figured I should put it to good use.”

“You don’t have to— Ah!” Whatever thought Bakura had immediately left his mind when he felt a surprisingly wet mouth cover his whole shaft. The spirit wasn’t fully erect yet, but he sensed it wouldn’t be long before that issue was remedied. He felt Marik slowly pull back at the – at least for him – unexpected growth. But then - ever the persistent one - the blond just dived back down again, coating the now-engorged cock with saliva. Bakura felt his hand move of its own free will to the Egyptian’s hair – he needed something to hold onto _now_.

The rapid surge of pleasure that Bakura experienced at the blond’s bobbing up and down at an increasingly quick pace felt almost too good. It struck the spirit that this was in all likelihood the first time his partner had gone down on anyone, and yet it wasn’t the worst Bakura had ever received – not by a long shot. He bit his lip and fought to keep his moans low, but couldn’t help letting one out at an especially good suck that involved the Egyptian’s tongue making its way over Bakura’s tip. Marik suddenly released the cock in his mouth and – breathing heavy and hair and makeup already mussed – stared a bit too seriously at the now-blushing spirit.

“Don’t hold back, Bakura. There’s no one else around.” Marik’s hand grabbed the base of Bakura’s erection to hold it upright and offer light strokes. The blond said the next words in what the spirit assumed was the most seductively quiet tone he could muster. “I fucking love your voice.”

Bakura could have come then and there. Since when did Marik start saying “fuck?” He didn’t have time to process the thought – he felt the Egyptian’s mouth take him all the way in so that he hit the back of his throat. The spirit cried out incoherently, which only spurred his partner to keep going – it felt like he was trying to break some world record with how fast he slid his lips up and down the swollen shaft. Bakura could only lie there – near-screaming with desire, back arched off the couch, one hand in golden hair and the other grasping the couch for purchase – and marvel at the intense pleasure building in his abdomen from the blond’s amazing mouth. He was so very close and wanted to savour this moment more than anything else – especially with the gorgeous man between his legs. And yet—

“Marik— Marik, stop.” The spirit took the one millisecond of clear thinking that entered his brain to pull himself up, gently lift the blond away from his cock and part-way raise his pants. His partner – now even more fully wrecked, lips quivering and eyes half-lidded – gaped at Bakura and grabbed his shoulders like a lifeline.

“But you— you were so close and—” The blond appeared completely off-balance, so Bakura lifted a hand to wipe at his cheek under a kohl-smeared eye as they both collected themselves. “Didn’t I do it right?”

“For a first time, I’d say you did well.” It was the honest truth, yet Marik seemed taken aback.

“Shut your face, Bakura! I’ve done this loads of frigging times before. Nay, hundreds! Women have—”

“Marik. I’m trying to be sincere for once.” Bakura tilted his head down as if in warning, but the sudden blush that crossed the Egyptian’s face indicated it may have come across otherwise.

“Why didn’t you let me finish?” Marik licked his lips in a way that was far too arousing – but Bakura pushed the thought back and pressed on.

“We’ve done this all wrong.” The blond seized up as if insulted, and Bakura quickly made to clarify. With his free hand, the spirit laced his and his partner's fingers together, rubbing his thumb gently along a tanned pulse point. If there was anything he hated, it was having to spell his emotions out - but he knew this was the only way his best friend would understand. “What I mean, Marik, is that we’ve done this out of order. Yes, I want you, if that hasn’t been abundantly clear for a very long time. But more than that, I want you to want me. For us to want each other. And we’ve skipped a few steps, a few conversations. There’s no right or wrong way to do this, whatever _this_ is… but there are ways of making it feel good for us both. So we’re both on the same page. _If_ this is what you really want.”

“I don’t know how—” Marik had never sounded so dejected, and it took all of Bakura’s willpower to not wince at the change in his usually optimistic and overactive partner.

“You never know until you try.” Bakura’s voice softened and he leaned in close to Marik, hands still placed respectively on his soft cheek and around his nimble fingers.

“That’s what I was doing, you foolish fool!” The blond was still confused – this needed a more direct approach.

“Marik… I’m saying... before anything else happens between us... if you want to... kiss me." Bakura didn't mean to sound desperate, but the will-they-won't-they of the situation was starting to get to him more than usual.

Like a few weeks ago, it looked like a lightbulb went off in the Egyptian’s head. His eyes widened as if hearing the words in slow-motion, and he could only stare at Bakura – in fear? shock? disgust? – for several moments. The spirit knew he’d gone as far as he could physically, lips so close and yet still too far from the one with whom he was enamored – it was up to Marik to meet him the rest of the way.

When the moment seemed to pass and the mood felt like it had dissipated, Bakura half-smiled in defeat and began to pull away – only to feel warm hands grab his face and press even warmer lips to his own. The spirit didn’t need to be told twice to close his eyes and lose himself in the feeling. He kissed back gently, encouraging the blond to keep going. He teased his partner's lower lip with a few soft bites, and Marik took that as a cue to deepen their kiss with a fervour that surprised them both. One brush of lips turned into two, turned into three, turned into too many to keep up with. Bakura never dreamed this earthly heaven could feel so good – and couldn’t imagine what he’d done to deserve it.

There was maybe too much teeth hitting each other, a little more saliva than necessary, a few misdirected placements of their faces. But the feeling of the blond’s lips connecting with his over and over and over again felt so new and exciting each time – and only grew in intensity as they allowed tentative tongues to slide together in desperate motions, tasting each other's mouths. The spirit moved his hands to ever-so-lightly stroke Marik’s back and grab his soft hair, letting loose a series of encouraging – and potentially embarrassing – mewls of pleasure. The Egyptian let out a muffled moan in response and used his own hands to push Bakura back down onto the couch so that he could straddle the spirit between his legs.

They continued their spontaneous make-out session for several minutes. This was an altogether different feeling than anything that had transpired between them since the lockdown began – Bakura finally felt like he and Marik were… comfortable. Like there was an understanding that this was what they both wanted. The pace they wanted. The sensations they wanted. The love—

As if on cue, Marik pulled back to stare down at Bakura. They both panted heavily, and the lack of contact only made the spirit long for more – he somehow felt he’d never get enough of this amazing man. Though, he _was_ curious about a few things.

“Marik, did you _plan_ that song-and-dance routine last week?” Bakura’s query was met with silence, and the blond turned his head away as if in shame - it was all the answer that was needed. The spirit thought even further back. “That day— when we hugged in the kitchen— I tried to— and you—”

“I was worried I’d mess up!”

“So you took to the Internet to learn how to kiss?” Marik stuttered at Bakura’s question, but seemed to quickly assess that there was no use in denying what had happened when his purportedly fool-proof cherry plan had backfired.

“You’re older, Bakura. Like, a bajillion years older.” The spirit offered a raised eyebrow in confusion – and slight offense. Marik smoothed his palms over Bakura’s t-shirt and spoke much slower than normal. “Before you, I never had a partner or a friend who wasn’t family or mind-controlled. And— And I know at some point you’ll have to leave to fulfill your frigging revenge plot or whatever. And I may be dense, but I notice things, you know. I knew how you felt towards me ages ago. But— Geez, Bakura, you’re a better villain than me. You’ve seen things and done things I couldn’t even imagine. You put up with my plans no matter how crazy they are. Not to mentioned you’re frigging gorgeous. So I— I didn’t want you to regret anything that we might have in the time you're still here with me. I didn’t want to make you leave any sooner than you had to. I didn’t want to be a… disappointment.”

Now it was Bakura’s turn to feel overwhelmed. Never the best with words anyway, he genuinely didn’t know where to start - but knew he had to at least try.

“You constantly annoy me. You oftentimes infuriate me. You never cease to amuse me with your inept schemes. But, Marik... you could never disappoint me.”

"But we're like that non-sparkly vampire show, Fluffy! I don't want to push you away like that. Or use you like that. Though, holy frig, did you see the way those two went at it in season six? Lovely stuff that was. But anyway, that's not the point, Bakura! I— I know you have a soul, even if it's got a creepy demon attached to it. And I know I joke you're not all human, but you look pretty frigging alive to me. And even though I know your main goal isn't me—" Marik suddenly ceased his rambling to lean down and lay his chest again Bakura’s. Their heartbeats seemed to sync to each other’s, and the spirit wrapped his arms around to bring them even closer together. When the blond finally spoke again, he near-whispered in a sad voice. “—I don’t want you to go.”

For the first time in thousands of years, Bakura knew that he was so close to success in his plot against the Pharaoh – and yet in that moment he not-so-secretly would have forgone it all just to keep this man in his arms, his _life_ , for the rest of his days.

_Not that I have much pity for you... but I certainly wouldn't wish your situation on anyone I loved. Or even hated. I'm... sorry, spirit._

Even Ryou seemed to understand the irony of the situation – Gods, what was the stress of this lockdown doing to everyone?

“I promise you, Marik. For now, I’m not going anywhere.” Bakura planted a chaste kiss atop Marik’s blond head – uncharacteristic of him, but fuck it, he was done hiding what he desired. “We’ll take this slow and see what happens.”

“Won’t your host miss school?” The Egyptian lifted his head up and looked at Bakura with slight trepidation. In typical fashion, he _had_ to have brought up the least opportune topic right at this intimate moment - probably to hide the tears that threatened to spill from his hypnotising eyes.

“Marik, I’m surprised he hasn’t been expelled with how much time I spend with you. Besides, everything’s closed now anyway.”

“Right. Almost forgot.” The reality of the diseased world they lived in returned to the front of their minds – Marik hadn’t been exaggerating earlier when he said there was no one else around. 

“We’ll get through this.” The spirit moved forward to offer a quick peck onto Marik’s now-swollen lips. “And then we’ll show the Pharaoh who _really_ wears the leather pants in this war. Together.”

Marik smiled widely and leaned down to offer a deep kiss that yet again devolved into several minutes of neither talking – the two would-be criminals just enjoyed the sensation of finally allowing this closeness to happen as they used their lips and hands to explore each other with the passion they had both inadvertently hidden forever. Bakura had waited so long for this – and it was better than he could have ever imagined. Even if just for this moment.


	4. Love Me Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I finished this piece, I realised that it needed a little something extra. So, y'all get a shiny epilogue once these main five chapters are through - especially for being awesome and sticking with this fic during such strange times. So far as this chapter's concerned, I don't think it's much of a spoiler to discuss how it's taken until pretty much the end of the story for these two to _barely_ make it to the bedroom - but considering how it's been over a decade since they first met in Abridged canon, I'll take that as a victory!

The worldwide lockdown had now lasted for well over a month, with no end in sight. But for Bakura, somehow the potential stress didn’t seem as overbearing as before.

It wasn’t just the change in his relationship with Marik. Though, as the spirit quickly realised, it certainly didn’t _hurt_ to now have his best friend occasionally pin him to a wall for an impromptu kiss or wrap his arms around him while cooking or snuggle up _just that much closer_ when they watched whatever Gods awful film was on TV each night – knowing the Egyptian's unpredictable nature, Bakura opted to let him take the reins most of the time when showing affection, which he gladly took advantage of almost every waking moment.

But more so than the physicality of their ever-evolving partnership, Bakura felt the weeks fly by because it was as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. There was now a lightness to his step – although, it could have just as easily been the slowly depleting oxygen making itself apparent in their home – and he more than once caught himself almost grinning like an idiot when he’d lay eyes on the beautiful Egyptian fixing their much more nutritious breakfasts each morning. The spirit had held his emotions in check for so long regarding Marik, and it was a relief to finally get everything out into the open – to not have to hide how he felt or what he desired and, even better, to have his feelings reciprocated.

And yet—

“Look at my sexy vampire self sucking this guy off, Bakura! You’re not even paying attention!” The spirit had been so caught up in his thoughts, he’d barely heard the blond who was sat on the carpet between his legs. His friend was focused intently on a video game – how long would it be before he actually finished that sodding _Bloodlines_ Let’s Play? – and, in typical Marik manner, had made some stupid joke with the intention to irk his partner. But something about the day’s mood struck Bakura as odd, and his mind had been more preoccupied than usual – everything was perfect now, right, so what the buggering hell felt off?

“Whatever you said, Marik, I’m sure it was a witticism for the ages. As usual.” Bakura tried to mask the tension in his voice by half-hiding his face in one hand. But Marik – ever doggedly perceptive – picked up on the change in tone right away.

“Fluffy—” That bloody nickname would never cease to send a lightning bolt of emotion through the spirit’s core. Marik set down his controller and turned around to rest both his elbows on Bakura’s knees, his own head in hands. “—You don’t look well. Do you need soup? That one book says soup always helps the soul, though I guess that might be weird in your case, seeing as there’s two of you in there. Oooo, we could watch _Cannibal Holocaust_ for the bazillionth time, all that blood might cheer you up! Or— holy frig, do you have the crow—”

“No, Marik, I don’t have the sodding crow virus. Though, your concern is quite touching.” Even with all the confessions and changes that had taken place over the course of the lockdown, Marik would always be Marik when it came to incessant babbling. Just that thought alone brought a small amount of comfort to the spirit’s psyche. 

“You know what else is touching?” Bakura removed the hand covering his face when he felt a weight shift above him – and found himself staring right into the lavender orbs of his best friend. His partner. His—

“Marik Sebastian Ishtar III, are you trying to seduce me?” The spirit spoke softly and let loose a smirk as he strategically placed his hands just above Marik’s rear. The blond’s legs straddled Bakura’s lap in a more-than-suggestive way, and his fingers gently massaged the shoulders covered by cascades of white hair.

“How dare you accuse me of such a thing!” The blond’s words were chastising but his tone was playful and his face was beaming and Bakura could have _absolutely_ taken him right there on the couch in that moment. Stupid, sexy Marik - when in the last few weeks had his partner found the time to become so bloody flirtatious? The Egyptian carded a hand through the long hair and tilted the spirit’s head up, expression suddenly overcome with lust. “Is it working?”

“Marik…” Judging by the sudden rush of blood flowing downwards and the welcome tingling in his stomach, Bakura didn’t need to answer.

Instead, he pulled his friend close to lightly brush his mouth over the blond’s before offering an exploratory dab of his tongue. The Egyptian whimpered softly at the gesture, and responded by deepening his partner’s motions. Soon enough, their lips and tongues connected in languid movements as if part of a well-choreographed dance. They were lost in the moment – just enjoying the intimate sensation like the teenagers they were – and the spirit was barely even aware of when they had both begun to slowly grind their bodies together. Bakura groaned into the kiss and marveled at the not-unwelcome contact. He moved his hands to hitch his thumbs in Marik's belt loops, pulling him down harder – and causing them both to gasp against each other’s mouths at the pleasurable shock it sent through their systems.

Despite all their prolonged kisses and constant touches in the previous weeks, neither had made a move to progress the physical side of their relationship very far – which, Bakura considered, was probably for the best given their previous track record. There was the occasional grope, a few slaps on the ass, some compromised positions when trying to cuddle together on their near-miniature couch. Maybe that’s why things between them felt off – was that all the spirit was worried about, just his stolen hormone-addled body wanting more closeness?

“Bakura—” It seemed Marik couldn’t keep from babbling even in-between each kiss – and the spirit wouldn’t have him any other way. “—You know what we need to do?”

“Mm?” Bakura’s cock twitched at what he hoped – he _prayed_ – Marik was insinuating, but he just continued to grip the blond tighter and press their mouths together over and over.

“We need to cut our frigging hair! Yours feels like a greasy nest of bird poop!”

Sod Bakura’s life, all its thousands of years – or however many bloody 4Kids saw fit to give him.

“Marik, you couldn’t have said that in a more—” The spirit recognised too late the futility of trying to chastise the now-pouting Egyptian. “—It’s just a natural part of what happens when one’s cooped up for weeks. Though, I’m curious how you plan to solve this _little dilemma_.”

Bakura intentionally left the ambiguity of the statement in the air – but emphasised his point by rolling up once more into Marik’s groin. If that didn’t get the idea across—

“Silly, Kitty! You think I don’t have scissors?”

Well, so much for that plan.

“Marik, have you forgotten that we can’t go out to a salon? And besides, neither of us has ever cut hair before. What makes you think this is in any way a good idea?”

“It can’t be that hard! We just need to shower and get our hair wet and—” Marik made a cutting motion with his fingers - the ridiculousness of their conversation in the current intimate position they occupied clearly hadn’t even crossed the blond’s mind. “—Who needs to spend years at some smelly beauty school when we could just do it ourselves?”

The arousal that had threatened to leave Bakura’s body suddenly came back full-force at the idea of taking a shower with the blond. Showers meant no clothes. No clothes meant naked. Naked meant—

“Fine, fine. If you _insist_.” The spirit played up his displeasure, confident that even Marik could pick up on the hint of what he really wanted.

“Great! I’ll go first!” The Egyptian abruptly jumped off Bakura and ran to the bathroom down the hall. “No peeking until I say so!”

The spirit blinked twice in shock at what had just happened, but couldn’t say he was surprised.

_Goodness. You’d think he’d be a little more open. So far as “parts,” it’s not like you two haven’t already—_

_Think I don’t bloody well know_ , Bakura snapped back in his head at the intrusive thoughts of his host. The foreboding ruminations from earlier threatened to return, but the spirit pushed them aside as he got up and walked over to the bathroom door. He heard hot water running and Marik singing some inane pop song in his typical off-key voice.

The spirit could only lean his forehead against the door, close his eyes and trap the memory in his mind for as long as it would stay.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Bakura stood overhead – scissors in hand – and wondered how in Ra he wasn’t going to fuck up the task at hand with the Egyptian _looking like that_.

It wasn’t anything in particular that caught the spirit off-guard – rather, it was the idea of the image itself. Marik sat half-naked on a stool with a towel wrapped around his torso in front of their too-big bathroom mirror. His admittedly-longer blond hair dripped from the shower and pooled on the tiles below. He clearly hadn’t cared much about drying off completely, as beads of water still clung to his perfectly sculpted body. Bakura couldn’t help but avert his eyes from the reflection of toned abs and chiseled features in the mirror to the sight of the Egyptian’s back which – Gods, how did even those terrible markings carved with such hostility look so radiant against that tanned skin?

“Yes, Bakura, we all know I’m the most attractive character in this series. Now, can you please get to it before my hair dries and turns into a frigging puff ball?” The spirit broke out of his trance and approached the back of Marik’s head with care. He took a few locks in hand and began to cut.

“Saying ‘please’ when giving orders now? My, Marik, I do believe you’ve gotten soft in your older years.”

“Soft?!” Marik nearly flailed around in his seat, and the spirit chuckled at the fact that _that_ was the problem word in his statement. “We may be on lockdown, Bakura, but that doesn’t mean—”

“Stop squirming or I’ll mess up.” Bakura snipped the scissors at Marik’s ear as a slight threat, and the blond quietened for a few blessed minutes, until—

“What was it like before, anyway?” As usual, Marik’s brain worked in mysterious ways, and Bakura could only sigh as he continued to cut – impressed that he was doing a bang-up job so far, if he said so himself.

“Specifics, Marik. Despite how long we’ve been together, I still lack any chance at reading your mind.”

“Your hair. You know, back in the day. When you were— ouch, Fluffy!” Bakura honestly hadn’t meant to pull on Marik’s scalp. But the mention of his former body – his past – had caused a sudden surge of _something_ to run his blood cold. Yet he knew not answering the question would only bring forth more pestering from the Egyptian.

“It was… different. Shorter. More silver than white.” The spirit spoke carefully and kept his focus on the golden strands between his fingers. “Why do you care all of a sudden?”

“It’s you, Bakura. Why would I _not_ care?” Marik lifted his face up slightly to offer an honest smile through the mirror. But the spirit turned his own head further down and half-heartedly tried to think of all the salacious things he wanted to do to the body below him – _anything_ to not have to consider the topic at hand.

“There. Done.” Bakura offered a final cut and backed away – maybe a bit too quickly, for he sensed rather than saw the Egyptian look at him with bewilderment in his eyes.

“Don’t you want me to do you next?” The spirit focused his attention on cleaning the scissors off, and chuckled at Marik’s unintended double entendre – how many had the blond made today alone?

“I’d rather not—” Bakura suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder gently turn him around. Marik – still half wet from the shower and yet somehow twice as alluring as normal – gazed at his friend as if trying to peer into his soul.

“I— I’d like to see. If you don’t mind.” In all their years of knowing each other, the spirit had never seen Marik appear so meek. It was like he was asking permission to do some unspeakably scandalous act – not that he would have minded at all if that was the case. But here, now, it was nigh impossible to forget the blond’s true age for a brief moment with that utterly – dare Bakura say – _innocent_ look on his face.

_Go on, spirit. It’s gotten too long and messy lately. Besides, a change has been needed for a while now._

Give it to Ryou to state the bleeding obvious – he and his host knew this was never just about hair.

After a few moments of indecision, Bakura handed the scissors over to Marik, bunched the white locks up tight in one long strand and turned around to offer the Egyptian his scalp.

“Just cut below my hand. It was never very tidy back then anyway, so it won’t need to be—”

No sooner had Bakura spoken than he felt a literal weight leave his shoulders for the second time that month. He looked down at the strands that now covered the floor where he stood, and – without even a glance at Marik – rushed to see himself in the mirror. The sight that greeted him was oddly familiar. Sure, the eyes were slightly different and the skin was definitely lighter and there was no way his former self would be caught dead in that silly striped t-shirt. But for a second, it was almost as if—

“Who knew short hair would suit you, Fluffy?” Marik seemed genuinely stunned by this new image of Bakura. The blond slowly made his way over to rest his head on the spirit’s shoulder and offer a chaste kiss to his pale neck. A graceful hand ran through the newly-cut locks in a futile attempt to straighten them out – and stopped when they reached the very top. “Still got the wings, though.”

“It’s close enough. Satisfied now?” Bakura broke away from the Egyptian's show of affection to lean against the sink countertop and hide his face from view. He wasn’t sure whether it was the awkwardness of his new hair - really, his _old_ hair - or the reminder of his past or the fact that Marik was _still bloody half-naked_. But there had been something different about this request from the blond, and it was making him feel strange in an indefinable way.

“What about the rest of you?” Marik ignored his friend's embarrassment and strode forward a step.

“Marik—” 

“Did you look as sexy as me?” Bakura chuckled at the idea that anyone could look as ravishing as the Egyptian before him, but still kept his face turned away.

“I think we’ve maxed out our quota of ‘sexy’ in this fic, Marik. Let’s try some other words.”

“Fine, geez.” The blond rolled his eyes, but took another step forward into Bakura's space. “Did you have the same gorgeous eyes?”

At that, Bakura perked up. He finally returned Marik’s gaze and – ironically, as if possessed – lifted a hand to caress the blond’s defined cheekbone where kohl lines usually lay.

“No. They were more… like yours. Purple. With hints of grey.” Marik took the answer as an affirmation to probe further. His hands spread out across Bakura’s shirt before slipping underneath the hem – the spirit failed to hold back a moan as his partner's fingertips caressed his chest and moved up to tease the sensitive area around his nipples.

“Was your skin always this beautiful?”

“It was no more beautiful than yours. Maybe a touch darker.” Bakura ran his hands across Marik’s uncovered shoulders - just barely gracing the wings on his back - to accentuate the point and bring the blond closer to him.

“And your body—” The Egyptian leaned forward to lie flush against the spirit, the towel starting to come undone at his hips. Both of the thieves’ breaths hitched at the intimacy of their conversation – really, more like a confession. Whatever spell had been cast between them, Bakura sensed neither wanted it to end. “—Bakura, was your body back then as frigging attractive as it is to me now, or—”

Bakura couldn’t hold back any longer from crashing their mouths together. He raced his palms along the defined abs before him and sighed loudly when he felt the blond’s hands quickly make to remove his shirt - made easier by his lack of long hair. Not daring to break the kiss, Marik began to grapple with his friend’s pants – far too tight for the current situation – and pushed Bakura to sit on the sink when they were loosened enough to finally remove from his body. The spirit tugged at the towel that was now barely clinging onto the Egyptian so that it fell to the floor – allowing the chance to grab his partner’s ass and pull their bodies impossibly closer.

Although the sensation of flesh-on-flesh was relatively familiar due to previous weeks, there was a yet unexplored desperation to their actions as they moved their hands across backs and into hair. And their moans against each other’s mouths only grew in eagerness when they felt their equally rock-hard cocks suddenly brush together. In reaction, Marik let loose a hoarse gasp of the spirit's name, and moved to trail his tongue along his partner’s neck before offering a series of hard bites – which only made Bakura snap his eyes shut and cry out louder than he expected.

“Fuck— Marik—!” The spirit couldn’t think straight as he felt his and Marik’s hands fumble to wrap together around both their lengths – uneven in rhythm at first before they began to stroke at a fevered pace. Bakura wrapped his legs around tan hips to hold them in place, and opened his eyes to meet his partner’s ravenous gaze. The blond's free hand swept up to trace his thumb around his friend’s now-bruised bottom lip – Bakura’s tongue darted out to taste the slightly salty flesh before it was replaced by the Egyptian’s own tongue diving in to lock their mouths in place.

Despite their fraught whimpers and the firm grip on their joined erections, the pace naturally slowed over the course of several minutes – more from sheer exhaustion and the admittedly awkward position on the sink. They may have been young, but fuck if they could keep up the momentum indefinitely – fanfic conventions be damned, this couldn’t end in the bathroom when it was so clearly leading to more. Marik pulled away the smallest of inches – eyes barely open – and Bakura leaned forward to rest their foreheads together. They both struggled for breath as an overwhelming heat coursed through their bodies, and the Egyptian quietly shivered - a mix of pleasure and the cool water still on his body - as he trailed lazy kisses across the spirit's lips.

“Are we really doing this, Fluffy?” Bakura felt more than heard Marik speak against his mouth.

“I trust you.” The phrase sounded strange coming from the spirit's gravely voice, but he said it as if it was the simplest truth he knew. Feeling a second wave of energy kick in - and taking advantage of the Egyptian’s strength - he wrapped his arms around broad tan shoulders and lifted himself off the sink, allowing Marik to grab his ass and hold him up. Their intense eye contact didn't waver as he leaned in for a more fervent kiss - and smirked at a long-ago memory once he finally pulled back. “Let's make sweet hatred together. Just you and me. Hating each other. All night long.”

"But it's the middle of the day, Bakura." No. Bloody buggering hell no. Marik _had_ to be fucking with him - in more ways than one. The Egyptian _did not_ get to look as hot as he did right now and say something so completely asinine that threatened to take the spirit out of his reverie.

"Marik." Bakura groaned the name in both irritation and arousal. He tightened the grip of his legs around the blond's waist - making a show of biting his lip when he felt the wet head of his shaft rub against his partner's chest. "Take me to bed. _Please_."


	5. Wicked Game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know that feeling when you say one thing and then do another? That happened to me with this chapter, as I realised after writing and polishing and having self-doubt and re-writing more times than I can count that it had just gotten _way_ too long for one single section. So, y'all get an extra chapter - in addition to the epilogue - after this one. Little brain says that makes me a liar and a flake. Big brain says people won't complain so long as they get smut and hurt / comfort feels. You decide who's right haha

Marik’s room was closer – and _of course_ had the bigger bed – so it didn’t take long for them to make their way across the hall and land in a naked, tangled heap on silk sheets. Aside from the few times when the Egyptian suffered from nightmares and needed coaxing to get back to sleep, Bakura hadn't spent many hours in his friend’s quarters. He had an inkling that would probably change after today, but the thought dissipated rather quickly as he felt Marik move above him to rummage through a nightstand drawer close by. The spirit raised an eyebrow when he saw the blond pull out the anticipated bottle of lube – tellingly, it was more than halfway used up.

“You sure _you’re_ not the one with some secret villain boyfriend, Marik? To think you accused me all those weeks ago.” Bakura mocked offense before smirking widely and grabbing the bottle from his partner’s fingers like the thief he was.

“I’ve wanted this for a long time, Fluffy. And it's like you said—” Marik just as adeptly snatched the bottle back from his friend. “—Practice makes perfect.”

Before Bakura could protest – or question _when_ the blond had found time to practice, and on _whom_ – Marik’s fingers were coated in the cold lubricant and wrapped around his leaking pink cock, making it slick. All coherent thought left the spirit’s mind as he thrust up into the motion of his friend jerking him off a bit slower than he would have liked. But he couldn’t really complain – whatever had happened with their awkward attempts at hand jobs and oral sex a few weeks back paled in comparison to the overpowering attention he was getting now.

The spirit breathed in heated gasps and closed his eyes as if to cut off the world – so it was only himself, Marik and the wholly intimate moment they were sharing together. He bucked his hips to urge the blond’s hand to move faster and grasped at the sheets to ground himself in the reality that _this was really bloody happening_.

“Fucking take me already—” Bakura nearly choked on his words as Marik worked him gradually faster – and almost whined from pure displeasure when the fingers around his seeping member were removed.

“Not yet, Fluffy.” The spirit groaned at the reply, but internally smirked at how much of a cocky bastard Marik was – in more than one way, judging by the thick length he’d now felt many times between his friend’s legs.

But when Bakura opened his eyes and saw the blond had backed away slightly, lube in hand, he understood it wasn’t arrogance at all – the Egyptian looked suddenly unsure of himself, as if he was considering all the options presented to him by the pale body sprawled out on his contrasting purple sheets.

“It’s sex, Marik, not a bloody maths test.” Bakura reached out his own hand to gently brush the wetness on top of his partner’s slit – the blond above held back a moan and spread his legs instinctively. There was finally a decent view of the tan shaft that the spirit so desired and _Gods_ he needed it pounding into him right the fuck now – it didn’t even matter which hole, he was so turned on. “We could always make this an _oral_ exam, you know.”

The joke didn’t seem to assuage Marik’s concerns. But Bakura couldn’t help himself as he made a show of bringing the now-slicked fingers to his mouth and sticking his tongue out to taste his partner’s precum – making the blond’s eyes go even bigger than before. It must have made something click in his head, because the spirit suddenly felt himself pulled gently forward – hips raised in the air – as a tentative finger began to circle his hole. The motion continued for a few pleasurable moments before a dark blush came over the Egyptian.

“Just so we’re clear, Bakura, I’ve never done— I don’t know— You’ll tell me if I—”

“Marik, it’s okay. I promise you won’t break me.”

For all the will in the world, Bakura was doing his best to be encouraging – but he was sure it came off more desperate than anything. His struggle to retain any semblance of control was completely lost as he watched resolve enter Marik’s face and felt the first finger enter him. The blond moved slowly – as if testing the waters – and the spirit could only tilt his head to the side and moan at the pleasant feeling. And being the thief he was, he craved a more intense sensation almost immediately.

“Gods, keep going..."

No sooner did Bakura beg than the blond had worked another finger in – almost transfixed at the sight of his friend writhing on the bed. The spirit felt himself pleasantly stretched as the digits inside spread just so to open him up – and managed to barely brush against the bundle of nerves that set his whole system aflame.

“Bloody hell— Fuck, again!”

By now, the spirit had closed his eyes and arched his back even further off the bed. He felt himself grow hopelessly aroused at Marik’s ministrations – and positively shrieked as a third finger made its way inside. The blond seemed to be gaining confidence by the moment. He grabbed Bakura’s leaking cock and offered shallow strokes in time with the thrust of his fingers – slowly picking up speed when the moans echoing in the room pitched up in volume.

Not to be outdone – even while crying out for release – the spirit opened his eyes and reached for the lube that had been discarded on the bed. With shaking fingers, he coated his palm and reached forward just enough to grab Marik’s impressively hard shaft – making it slick with lube and nudging it up towards his entrance. The blond panted at the touch and turned his head down as if overwhelmed – before looking to Bakura through heavy, half-lidded lashes.

“Can I really have you?” The blond slowly removed his fingers, but held back from proceeding any further as his partner shifted his hips and teased his ass closer.

The spirit nearly screamed in frustration at the hesitation, and so took matters into his own hands – literally – by pushing Marik’s erection into the vacuous heat in one go. Both cried out in unison – more from shock than anything else – and they snapped their eyes closed at the very new, very welcome warmth between them. Bakura was the first to recover and – through shaky breaths – moved his hands up and down tan hips to offer a semblance of comfort to the Egyptian that, yes, he’d done well and, yes, this was alright and, yes, he did in fact have his cock up his best friend’s ass.

“What took you so long?” It was all Bakura could say to calm the blond – and it thankfully seemed to work. The spirit nudged his partner’s hips in an effort to very slowly get him used to the flow of pulling out and pushing in, out and in, out and in. Marik – ever the quick learner – scrunched his face in concentration and removed the pale hands to hold them above his head on the bed.

Their faces now inches apart, Bakura locked eyes with the blond and lifted his head to lick his way into his partner’s mouth. Marik gradually built up the rhythm of his thrusts as they kissed – only breaking contact when the spirit felt his prostate hit directly by a slight change in angle, causing him to wail without shame.

“Right there! Oh, Marik— Ahh!”

“Is— Is it good?” Upon realising his partner was too far gone to answer, Marik freed a hand from above and ran it along Bakura’s cheek. The Egyptian slowed down the pace to savour the moment and get a good look at the reactions of the spirit. “Frig, Bakura, you’re really beautiful.”

Bakura – a bit miffed by the sudden chance in tempo and not in the mood for bloody compliments – moved his hips to coax the speed up again. He should have expected the blond wouldn’t shut up even while fucking his brains out, so the spirit played along as best he could in his typical snarky manner.

“You know, Marik— _mmm, that’s good_ — if you’re so attracted to my current body, doesn’t that say more – _ahh, don’t stop_ — about your feelings towards my host than about me— _fuck_!”

Bakura was a thief of many talents – talking coherently whilst in the throes of passion barely counted as one. Marik sighed at the apparent absurdity of the question – and at the sounds of pleasure being wrung from his partner. The Egyptian brought his face close to the spirit’s neck and maintained a surprisingly stable voice as he trailed kisses along the exposed skin – one hand gripping the newly-shortened hair and another now moved downwards to make light circular motions around a hardened pink nipple.

“Silly Kitty. I fell in love with your _soul_ , not your face. Not that your face isn’t very, very pretty, Bakura. Though, you’re right, I guess it’s really your host’s face. And I’m sure he’s a lovely guy, but you’re _you_ , you know? Of course, my face is still far more god-like, but—"

Whatever Marik continued to say became white noise. Time stood still. Even the pleasure felt throughout Bakura’s entire body seemed to drift away. It was as if a missing piece in his soul – all the worries and trepidation from that day – had been filled. And the spirit finally understood what had been bothering him so much.

“Sorry. What did you say?”

At that, Marik ceased all movement in his hips and pulled himself away from the spirit’s neck – a look of surprise came across his face and a chaotic energy entered his eyes when it dawned on him what he’d just admitted. Bakura prepared himself for the possibility that something about his own curt response might have set the Egyptian off – would possibly release the fearsome maniac that lived within his partner’s soul.

But instead, Marik merely lowered his face down to plant a drawn-out, almost simple kiss on the spirit’s parted mouth. 

“Bakura, I— I didn’t—”

At that, the blond decided that now was apparently the best time to flip them both over so that the spirit straddled his hips above. Bakura grunted from the abrupt shift, but unconsciously moaned when he felt the Egyptian’s cock press into him deeper from their new angle – Marik truly was the stopped clock being right twice a day of sexual positions, Ra bless him. His partner seemed to enjoy the change in view, too, and used tan fingertips to stroke pale hips before grabbing on tight – a sign of their combined impatience, sure to leave bruises they would both wear proudly later.

“You don’t have to say it back. Just show me.”

For once, Bakura needed to be told twice – quite a feat considering that he was finally getting exactly what he’d wanted for at least a decade – or was it shorter? These bloody timelines really needed to be sorted out, but that was neither here nor there. The spirit wanted more than anything to fuck himself into a frenzy on his partner’s cock and beg for the gratification to never end. Yet he couldn’t get past the one thought racing through his mind – and for once, he silently wished Ryou would pop in like normal and offer some obvious insight that he’d roll his eyes at and then follow two seconds later.

“You’re… in love… with me?”

Marik sighed at the question and rocked his hips to encourage the spirit to get on with it – but continued to talk as if this was any other task, like playing a video game or fondling his Rod or applying makeup each morning. Bakura half-wondered if the Egyptian under him was even really turned on much now after the unexpected confession.

“Yeah, I know it’s probably silly, but it’s how I’ve felt for a while. Don’t worry, we’ll make the most of the time we have left. There’s still villainous plots to hatch, Evil Council meetings to attend, fangirls to please— I haven’t even given you a wild ride on my motorcycle yet! And who could forget about the tacos and kedahs we need to eat! We haven’t been able to treat ourselves to any decent food for over a month. When we get out of here, we should definitely go on a date— as super attractive evil masterminds, of course! Not that I’m embarrassed to be with you, Fluffy. But, if I’m honest, I don’t really want anyone else seeing you like this. It’s nice having this side of you all to myself. And geez, there’s so many places we still have to go to show off our gorgeous bodies and skills – really, _my skills_ – and once this frigging crow virus is gone, we’ll have to cram everything in to make up for lost time before you have to go, and— Bakura?”

The spirit didn’t even register anything was amiss until he saw the concerned look on Malik’s perpetually stunning face – and felt wetness running down his own. The blond stopped the motion of his hips and lifted himself up to wipe away the silent tears streaming down Bakura’s cheeks.

“Frig, I didn’t hurt you, did I? You said you’d tell me if—” For once, the Egyptian wasn’t freaking out in an outlandish way – and that fact alone disturbed Bakura more than anything. Any trace of their arousal now all but vanished, the spirit didn’t even think to shift out of the still-penetrative position they shared as Marik held him in his arms. “Bakura, please. Did— did I screw up again, or—”

“It’ll never be enough time.” Bakura wished the trembling throughout his body was from the pleasure being bestowed upon it moments before – and _not_ from the sobs he was desperately trying to hold back. “Don’t you see? The story is always the same. I thought I was used to being trapped. First it was my village, then the Ring. Bloody hell, even this sodding lockdown— I’ve wanted nothing more than to be free to seek my vengeance for so long. But now… Marik, you absolutely mean it when you say you’re in love with me?”

A part of Bakura had somehow never considered this as a possibility. Sure, a month ago he would have been happy just to get even a passing glance from his longtime partner. He'd figured there was attraction there, but even if it was acted upon it would be purely physical – just the bodies of two horny teenagers literally pushed together under extreme circumstances. Maybe there would be a deepening of the emotional connection they already had. Or a greater understanding of the psychological scars they both shared – albeit thousands of years apart, yet still far too familiar to one another. And perhaps just getting the sex out of his system would rid the spirit of the nagging passions he’d tried to bury for so long.

But… _love_? The fact that Marik – the literal ray of sunshine who’d been by his side for Ra knows how long – loved _him_?

 _That_ was wholly unexpected – only made their wonderful, crazy relationship even more complicated. And Bakura – held in the arms of the one person in thousands of years he’d ever trusted, and donning the hair he wore just as long ago – couldn’t help but weep at the cruelty of the fate he’d been dealt by the Gods, by the demon living in his Ring and the plot of the story that would end the same every single bloody time – especially whenever this particular one came to a close.

But the spirit barely had a moment to process the full enormity of his existential crisis before something hit him – and _not_ in the figurative epiphany sense.

Bakura literally fell back onto the bed as he felt a swipe across the side of his body. He didn’t even register immediately that Marik wasn’t inside him anymore when the Egyptian loomed overhead with a pillow in hand and a concerned look on his reddened face.

“What the bloody hell— I was just saying— And you—” The spirit was genuinely shocked and lost for words – if that was Marik’s intention, he’d done a buggering good job. But – as always with the enigmatic blond – there was always more to the story.

“You talk too much, Bakura.” Marik’s voice was serious, but the image of his naked frame, now mostly-flaccid dick and slightly frizzed hair above – not to mention the pillow he held as if to pummel his friend’s face – was too much for the spirit to handle, especially after the overly emotional moment he’d just experienced. So it was no surprise that he couldn’t help the genuine laughter that unexpectedly erupted from his body at the absurdity of the situation. The blond seemed to take offense, and hit Bakura's chest with the pillow. “I command you to stop laughing, Fluffy! I’d never seen you frigging cry before and I—”

Marik’s words were cut short as Bakura reached for another pillow nearby – the Egyptian seemed fond of having the soft things surreptitiously scattered around his bed, like the bloody teenage girl he sometimes acted like – and whacked his friend’s body full-force. The blond let out a gasp, and immediately returned the strike with another of his own. But the spirit was too fast – even in a stolen body, he was still a flexible, quick-footed thief, after all – and moved out of the way just in time to stand at the side of the bed.

Suddenly, it was like they’d forgotten the entire reason for being in the insultingly opulent bedroom – they raced around like they were making up for the childhoods they’d both been denied, not even caring that they were completely exposed as they landed hit after hit on each other. If he’d been asked what he was thinking in that very moment, Bakura would have surprised himself to know that sex was the furthest thing from his mind.

“Soft _and_ slow, Marik?” Bakura held his pillow back, ready to strike at a moment’s notice. “Here I thought you were the younger one between us.”

“Nobody talks that way to Marik Sebastian Ishtar III! Get back here, Bakura!” It may have sounded like a threat, but the blond’s entire appearance screamed mischievous – almost the same look as when they’d first met that fateful day in the alley.

Much faster than Bakura expected, Marik jumped on the bed, slid across the silk sheets and managed to disarm the spirit and pin him against the wall with his pillow in-between them. Neither spoke as they just stared into each other’s eyes - the gloom from before threatening to return. But as if on cue, they both burst into laughter and collapsed into a giggling bundle of limbs on the floor - occasionally tossing the pillows at each other.

Even now – during the most non-sexual situation in which they’d ever been placed – they couldn’t keep their hands off each other.


	6. Take Care

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As fun as this fic has been, I'm not sure when I’ll write Abridged-style again – I actually exhausted all my YGOTAS headcanons here. I also find I don't write comedy as easily as drama, which is probably why the story has become progressively less "funny." Of course, I could be wrong – after re-reading this piece so many times, it's hard to tell what works anymore. But taking up this challenge has genuinely made me more appreciative of both LK’s work _and_ all the amazing authors who write Abridged stories!

“I suppose we’re both fucked up, aren’t we?” Bakura wanted – _needed_ – to keep the mood light, but knew it would be better to address what had just happened if they sought any chance at sex ever again.

They’d moved from the floor back to the bed, and both laid face-down on their respective "battle pillows," as Marik called them. The spirit gently stroked the cruel markings on his friend’s back, eventually easing down to trace the outline of his perfectly round bottom. The words “thief” splayed across the tan cheeks made Bakura chuckle – and then wince slightly at the thought that he’d had his half of their joint tattoo removed long ago, during a period of absence he’d rather not recall.

“But isn’t that why we work so frigging well together? Because we’re both assholes who finally got a chance at living somewhat normal lives after meeting a kindred spirit and allowing ourselves to break down the barriers of trauma and emotional repression that we’d carried for so long?”

Bakura didn’t know whether to laugh at the accidental “spirit” pun or be shocked that Marik was clever enough to nail the appeal of thiefshipping right on the head. In the end, the spirit simply sighed and continued to grace pale fingers across his partner’s perfect form.

“Normal lives don’t happen for villains like us, Marik. I can’t very well see us settling down in some cushy office job and coming home each day to a white picket fence and fresh-baked pie. Besides, as you said, it’s only a matter of time before I have to—”

The spirit couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence, and the sodding tears from earlier threatened to make a comeback. The blond – ever the more perceptive of the two – sensed the dark clouds looming again and sat up on his elbows to stare down sympathetically at his friend.

“You think I haven’t thought this through, Bakura? And since when do you give in so easily? I may play up the dumb blond act, but I think I’ve put more thought into this than you have in the last gazillion years.” The spirit matched Marik’s movements and rested his head in his hand to stare at his friend - a bit vexed at the subtle insult.

“What the actual bloody hell are you on about?”

“Look, just— just stop being a fool and let me take care of you for once! You’ve done so much for me and the world’s been kind of a big smelly jerk to you and I—” The Egyptian shifted his position to raise Bakura up against the headboard so that they both sat staring at each other. It was probably Marik’s attempt to show just how serious he was, but it came off more amusing than anything – and was made even more ridiculous when the blond moved to rub their noses together like they had in the kitchen so long ago. The spirit closed his eyes and focused on the skin-on-skin contact – resisting the urge to lean in for a quick kiss when he heard his partner speak again. “—I lost you once, Bakura. And in these past few weeks... after everything that's happened with us... I’m ordering you to never leave me again!”

“Marik, it's not that simple.”

“Look at me, Florence.” The blond _never_ used the spirit's true name unless he was absolutely not joking about something. So Bakura – the self-righteous bastard who never took orders – did as he was told and focused intently on every little feature of Marik’s face as he spoke. “If I have to use the magic that I apparently have the skills for because I’m awesome and the fangirls made it a thing… If I have to make some deal with the Egyptian Gods who are totally the only ones that exist because the canon says so… If I have to use the device in that film that only gave my beautiful face one second of frigging screen time… If I have to come up with hundreds, nay, _thousands_ of my ever-brilliant schemes… I’ll find a way to bring you back, Bakura. I promise I won’t give up on you.”

The spirit was so stunned by his partner’s words that when he heard Ryou pipe up he nearly jumped out of his skin – quite the accomplishment, considering his particular bodily situation.

_It’s rare to see you so quiet. Look, I know where this is heading, so… just be gentle with him. With yourself._

Bakura smiled for once at what his host had to say, and looked to a very determined Marik.

“I’ve lived a thousand lifetimes. Done so many things. So many _people_ , if you don’t mind my saying so, Marik.” No trace of jealousy crossed the blond’s face. Either he was very confident, very accepting or very foolish – probably all three. “And yet no one’s ever done this for me before.”

“Done what?” The spirit laced his and Marik’s fingers together and beckoned the blond to sit closer in his lap.

“Given me hope. A chance at a future.”

“Well, you mean the world to me, Bakura. _Of course_ I’d give you a chance at having that world back.” Marik shrugged as if it was just a simple fact. But for the spirit, the words held so much more. _This_ was why they worked. _This_ was why they trusted each other. _This_ was why they’d stuck together for so long. _This_ was why—

“I love you, Marik.” Bakura should have been shocked by the ease with which the words spilled from his mouth – but he was too distracted by the sensation of Marik’s soft lips suddenly on his own to notice. He repeated the phrase like a mantra as he stole kiss after gentle kiss - speaking with each one. “Marik... I love you... Love you... So bloody much... I love you...”

“Bakura…” In the best way possible, the blond sounded as lost as the spirit felt – and the earlier stir of emotions and hormones shared between them came back full-force.

It was then that Bakura made a decision, influenced as ever by Ryou’s words – at least for this moment, he would make time cease to matter. If the whole bloody world could stop in its tracks for however long it pleased due to some unforeseen force, why couldn’t they do the same? He and the Egyptian had waited so long already. There was no need to be frantic like earlier - it wasn’t like they could go anywhere even if they wanted to.

There seemed to be a mutual understanding between the would-be criminals, and the spirit tenderly nudged Marik to lie on the bed as he offered a trademark smirk.

“Don’t worry, I still want you and your massive cock back inside me. Just—” Bakura felt like a broken record – he couldn’t help saying the words again as he moved on top of his partner. “—I love you, Marik. And I _will_ show you.”

“You talk a lot for a guy who’s all show.” The blond’s own smirk devolved into a soft smile almost instantaneously. “Whatever you do, Bakura, I’ll be happy. I want you.”

 _Now_ the spirit didn’t have to be told twice. Hands splayed on both sides of his partner’s face, he knelt down to hover just above Marik's mouth and – instead of giving the blond what he expected – moved to kiss his way around the striking tan face. Eyelids, nose, cheekbones, ear lobes, any exposed skin made available for the taking – every new location that Bakura trailed his lips across seemed to spur the Egyptian on more and more until he was a shivering, panting mess underneath the pale body.

“Before we get to the main attraction—” Bakura moved his mouth to the Egyptian’s ear and licked the tender flesh between lobe and neck. Marik positively whimpered at the gesture and dug his fingertips into the spirit’s side. “—I want to make up for what I didn’t _finish_ last month.”

The blond was too far gone to even register the pun. Bakura shifted to offer only a quick peck on the side of his partner’s opened mouth before sitting upright and running his fingers lightly down the smooth skin. He stopped at his tan chest and decided _that’s_ where he wanted to lavish attention for the time being – leisurely licking in circles around one nipple while copying the motion with one hand on the other. Marik gasped when the lightest pressure from sharp teeth entered the mix, and grabbed hold of the spirit’s head – securing him in place to continue teasing the sensitive areas.

“That… that’s really good…”

The spirit took the opportunity to move his free hand down to grasp the Egyptian’s engorged shaft – offering a not-too-firm, not-too-light touch. For once, it seemed that the blond could barely speak from the pleasure being driven through what appeared to be all his most receptive areas. After taking in several moments of his friend’s ridiculous, sweet nothings - and smiling inwardly that _he_ was the one causing them - Bakura sat up and trailed his digits down the remainder of Marik’s annoyingly flawless body.

“Tell me if I do anything that doesn’t feel good. Promise?” The spirit shifted downwards to rest his head in-between the Egyptian’s legs – his deliberate strokes never ceasing. Ahead, Marik groaned from both the attention being given to his erection and the fact that he had to suddenly form words.

“How many frigging times do I have to tell you, Fluffy? I trust— Ohhh!”

Bakura’s tongue lapped at the blond’s hole once, twice, countless times – just to see what the effect would be. He hadn't actually planned this part - really, considering his revenge plot was thousands of years in the making, planning in general had never been his forte. But he couldn't resist taking his time to explore every inch of the Egyptian's body now that it was laid before him. When Marik’s voice pitched higher at the affection being bestowed upon him, the spirit jerked the impressive member in his hand quicker, and smoothed his other hand over a pronounced hip bone – nearly struggling to hold his friend in place.

“Is this too much?” The spirit was a strange mess of concern and complete arousal at the erotic noises coming from Marik.

“Ba... ku... ra…”

Pleased by the fact that his name was the only sound that Marik could make, Bakura finally moved to align his mouth with the massive cock he’d spent Ra knew how long daydreaming about. He ran his tongue over the tip – tasting the precum dripping out – before moving his lips ever-so-carefully over the head and gradually down inch by inch. Coating the length in saliva took longer than normal for the spirit – because of both the incredible size and the fact that he wanted to sear this moment in his memory forever. He eventually succeeded and started a paced rhythm - gauging his friend’s reactions as he played with different speeds, pressures and personal tricks he'd picked up over the years. The fingers not occupied with stroking the blond’s hip moved back to the now-slippery hole – not penetrating, just teasing the outside in rapid circular motions.

It all seemed to do the trick. Sooner than expected, the blond’s body tensed, and he came thick and fast down his partner’s throat. The spirit was amused at how silent Marik was by the end – eyes tightly shut, mouth in an o-shape, breathing heavy, one hand on his forehead and another clasping white hair below as if to ground himself. Bakura licked his lips to taste every last bit of the Egyptian's come as he rose up and caressed his friend's chest.

“Good?” The blond only nodded at first, but – in typical Marik manner – turned his brain into overdrive almost the second he recovered.

“But— But now how the frig are you going to— I’ve already— And you—”

“The first one’s over and done with, yes. Which means we can take our time with the next ones.” Understanding seemed to wash over Marik’s face - especially at the thought of more sensations like the one he’d just had – only to be immediately replaced by another pestering question.

“But won’t we run out of lube at the rate we’re going? See, this is why _I’m_ the one who always has to come up with our plans!”

The spirit knew deep down that he’d brave a thousand bloody crow viruses in the pursuit of lube if it meant he got to hear such carnal sounds escape his partner’s mouth again. But frankly, impending doom was the farthest thing from Bakura’s mind as he laced his fingers with Marik’s and crawled back up his body. He very slowly kissed and licked his way forward – starting with his flat stomach, up toned abs, around darkened nipples, to his blushing neck tinged with the afterglow of orgasm – until he captured the blond’s swollen lips and canted their position upright. The Egyptian pulled away at the shift, but seemed reassured by the sound of his friend’s voice.

“Marik… the only plan I have right now… is for you to make love to me.”

Eyes wide at the prospect of suddenly giving as much pleasure as he’d just received – despite doing the same thing almost an hour before – Marik sheepishly reached for the lube and wrapped one arm around Bakura’s back. The blond uncapped the bottle one-handed and – with a sudden burst of confidence – brought their lips together in a deep kiss. The spirit gladly accepted the gesture, but gasped when he felt a cool wetness creep underneath him. He saw a sudden determination enter his friend’s eyes as he leaned forward and spoke much quieter than normal.

“Stay like this, Bakura. I want to watch you come.”

Now it was the spirit’s turn to be lost for words. He could only nod as he moved his arms and legs to wrap around the Egyptian’s neck and back for support – bringing their chests flush together and their lips a breath apart. Bakura bridged the slight gap between them again and softly rocked along his partner’s body. Only when he felt a slick finger gradually enter him – even less hurried than their last attempt – did he break away to moan and bury his head in Marik’s shoulder. The blond carefully stroked his friend’s back as he worked his way into the spasming ring of muscle.

“You feel amazing, Fluffy.” Bakura somehow whined even louder at the genuine encouragement from his partner. He gripped tighter with his legs and moved his hips to lazily ride down on the welcome intrusion.

“So good, Marik… Another… Please…”

The spirit practically heard the Egyptian smile in delight as he moved another digit inside - even more leisurely than the first. After several minutes of gentle prodding, Marik found the sweet spot that made Bakura cry out shamelessly, throw his head up to the ceiling and grind his body down on the hand working him below.

The spirit wondered briefly – based on their earlier conversation that touched on the possibility of their getting a different ending – if other versions of Marik might exist, and if they too were as talented at making Bakura feel incredible. But he quickly lost all train of coherent thought as a third finger made its way in and worked skillfully with the others to open him up. No, the spirit decided he would never want anyone else other than this Marik. _His_ Marik.

“Please... I need you inside me… Now...”

Bakura finally opened his eyes – when the bloody hell had he closed them? – and looked down to Marik, ready to plead if need be. But the blond had such a look on his face – of amazement? reverence? awe? – that it almost took the spirit’s borrowed breath away. He lolled his head to the side as if asking the unspoken question – just as he felt the sudden loss of fingers be replaced slowly by the Egyptian’s newly-hard cock.

“Bakura…”

“Fuck... Marik...”

Marik pushed in and Bakura impaled himself down – neither rushing, just adjusting to the sensation of fullness and heat and connectedness, and never once wavering from the other’s gaze.

The spirit half-expected the moment to be ruined by some awful joke or inane remark, as was usual between them. But once he'd sunk down to the hilt and just sat there for a moment, his partner instead ran his hand along a pale cheek – Bakura turned to hold the tan palm and kiss it gently.

“I love you.”

They hadn’t meant to say it at the same time – but since when had any of their ideas gone exactly as planned, anyway? So they both just brought their foreheads together and allowed themselves to unabashedly smile.

The spirit locked his arms even more firmly around Marik’s neck and began to slowly move – the Egyptian met the motion with thrusts of his own. Before long, a steady, languid tempo had built up between them – though, one could have called it almost impressively lazy with how their fingers casually trailed across skin and their mouths only successfully connected every few tries and their eyes drooped heavy with lust and their voices made just the faintest sounds of mutual pleasure.

It was only when the blond gave a particularly strong push that Bakura’s moan was swallowed up in one of many kisses. The spirit grasped impossibly tighter to the body in front of him and tried to pierce himself deeper on the erection that rubbed right against his prostate and filled him up _so bloody fucking good_.

For the second time that day, Marik flipped their position so that he towered over Bakura – who now lay flat on his back. The spirit bucked his hips to encourage the blond to move.

“Marik… Fuck… me…”

They were the only words that either of them would be able to say for a good while. All pretense of patience and waiting now dissipated, Marik plowed into the spirit – insistent and urgent and hungry. Hands grasped at skin and sheets and mouths and hair – anything to heighten the amazing feeling between them and express their shared love and trust. Considering it was the blond’s first time – second, if the debacle before counted – Bakura was astounded at how long his friend was lasting. He could have smirked at how well his own plan of getting him off earlier had worked – if he wasn’t being driven to the heights of ecstasy by the wonderful cock desperately ramming into his ass. He was close – and he sensed he wasn’t alone. So, he grabbed the tan face in front of him and locked chestnut eyes on lavender to send a silent message: _Come. Together._

Marik took the hint and began to work his own hand over the spirit’s leaking member. A few mistimed strokes and a couple accidental brushes atop the overly-sensitive head were all it took to make Bakura see stars and scream his partner’s name as spurts of come landed on his chest. This time, the blond nearly competed in volume with his own wails - he released into the tight heat surrounding him at virtually the same time, and immediately collapsed on the pale chest below.

When they finally came down from their respective drawn-out highs, each took stock of how wrecked the other looked – and how they genuinely didn’t care. Bakura had never seen the Egyptian look more beautiful – not only because of his just-fucked appearance, but because of the way he’d managed to wiggle into a missing part of the spirit's soul and gain his absolute trust. It was an intensely frightening feeling – but he’d lived for thousands of years with a literal demon breathing down his neck, so the sensation couldn’t be _all_ bad.

After a few minutes spent cleaning up - with the Egyptian turning his nose up like a petulant child when he saw the mess on his chest - they settled under the covers. Bakura’s hands caressed Marik’s waist, and Marik’s fingers ran through Bakura’s hair - he couldn’t seem to get enough of the new look on his friend. It was still too early to turn in for the day, but fuck it, the blond had been right weeks ago – they were evil villains, and since when did they care about society’s rules?

“Hey, Bakura.” The spirit took in the sight of a nearly passed-out Marik, golden hair splayed across his side of the bed. “We should do pillow fights more often if that’s the sort of sex we end up having.”

“Stay with me long enough, Marik, and I’ll make it my new goal in life to steal as many pillow fights and tacos and yaoi comics as your heart desires.” The Egyptian could only smile at the offer as he fell into a deep sleep.

Bakura didn’t keep track of how long he stayed awake just watching Marik as he breathed and looked more peaceful than ever before. But when the spirit did ultimately wake up again the next morning, he was silently thrilled that the same lovely sight greeted him – had always been there for him and would continue to be there for him.

The former thief king could have never stolen this view. There was no need to when Marik was the best gift – the best prize – he'd ever received. Bakura wasn’t sure who would be there for the blond between the time when he did eventually have to leave and when he’d undoubtedly make his triumphant return from the shadows - or wherever the bloody hell he'd end up in this story, it wasn't quite clear. Like the lockdown in which they currently found themselves, their future would be a waiting game with no defined outcome in sight. They could only trust in each other that it would all work out.

But at least for now, the spirit would gladly give his partner, his friend, _his lover_ all the affection he deserved. In this lifetime and every other.


	7. This Too Shall Pass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm skipping ahead in time beyond the current moment by assuming when this lockdown will end – it really only made sense to do that with this fic, as I couldn't see finishing with "and they were still stuck inside" as a satisfying finale. In any case, I sincerely hope my writing brought some joy into these very strange times. These two idiots - in both canon _and_ Abridged - are very close to my heart, and I think we all definitely need happy endings right now. Many thanks to everyone for the support given to this story!

The weeks became months and the months in turn passed along at a steady rhythm. But Bakura barely even noticed the change in seasons as they flew by without a second glance – mainly because Egypt didn’t particularly _have_ seasons to begin with, but that was beside the point.

With Marik to wake up to everyday, there was no need for calendars or other time-measuring devices. So long as the two would-be criminals could spend each day playing video games, slowly improving their cooking skills, getting into facetious arguments about the silliest topics or – their favourite activity – just lying in bed all day naked and enjoying the other’s raw presence, the spirit was quite content to let the little world they’d built up over time play out to its fullest extent.

And then – almost as suddenly as when his family had been stripped from him a lifetime ago – Bakura sensed this special time was drawing to a close almost before the news actually broke.

In fact, the information that the virus outside had finally been vanquished and that life as the world knew it would return to “normal” – a word that the spirit couldn’t help but grimace at – hit Bakura harder than he expected. For all his years of feeling trapped inside the Ring, he felt a strange uncertainty at life suddenly resuming as if nothing had changed when - at least for him - it _so clearly had_.

_He deserves to know, spirit. I know this time has been really important, but this part of the story has to end so the next bit can begin... for all of us. I didn't build that diorama for nothing, you know._

He knew Ryou spoke the truth, but still kept the announcement to himself for a few days – possibly a cruel move on his part, considering that his friend had early on so desperately wanted to venture beyond their home. Bakura would be the first to admit that his decision was a selfish one, but he knew it was only because he wanted this new life to stay the same as before – if he could have stolen the concept of time itself, he would have done so ages ago. And in an age of uncertainty, Marik had become the one sure thing the spirit could count on - oddly enough, for all the time they’d spent trapped in their home, this had been the most freedom that either of them had ever experienced.

But Bakura knew the theoretically good news had to be broken at some point. So, after settling into bed one night – wrapped as he now always was in the arms of the beautiful Egyptian who looked to him with such adoration that the spirit had to often blink back tears of joy – he decided to tell Marik... in the morning. No need to ruin a perfectly good cuddle, he figured.

* * *

As was typical, Bakura’s well-laid plans were derailed almost instantly by a certain blond Egyptian.

The spirit woke the next morning by stretching his arms out to a surprisingly empty pillow beside his head. This would normally be the time that he'd spend just gazing at his beloved partner, as if trying to memorise every single feature on his face and body – creating a stockpile of memories to keep him comforted during the inevitable final showdown against the Pharaoh. The half hour before Marik woke up was usually spent sweeping a hand through blond strands or leaving soft kisses along an exposed neck or just staring in awe that _this utterly ridiculous man_ ended up being the perfect match for him in so many ways. At the same time, Bakura would also sometimes chuckle at the irony of spending so much time early in the day dedicated to this admittedly silly habit – leave it to his friend to turn him into a bloody morning person after all.

So, the fact that said Egyptian was nowhere to be seen on this particular day – of all buggering days – sent a panic coursing through Bakura’s veins as he grasped at air next to him.

But before he could fully register his partner’s absence, the spirit took note of an intensely good feeling coming from below – _way_ below. Bakura saw the covers bobbing slightly up and down in front of him and felt a familiar warmth around his cock. In spite of his urge to just moan freely and enjoy the sensation, he tentatively pushed his hands underneath the duvet and felt at the Egyptian’s face nestled between his legs.

“How long have you been down there?” The movement suddenly stopped, and the blond’s head made its way up and out of the covers – which promptly caught on golden locks so that Marik’s head tented the fabric in a way that was far too adorable for a self-proclaimed evil genius. Bakura had to stifle a laugh as he stroked his friend’s face and tried to get control over his half-formed breaths.

“Took you long enough to notice, Bakura! I wanted to surprise you, but you sleep like the frigging dead! I mean, in a way, you _are_ dead, but—” The spirit stopped Marik’s rambling before it could truly begin by pushing himself forward to lock their lips together – even after what must have been the thousandth time he’d kissed the blond, Bakura couldn’t believe how sodding lucky he was to claim that mouth for himself and himself alone.

“I don’t mean to sound testy, Marik—” Bakura all but forgot the news he was supposed to inform his partner of – and instead shifted to the Egyptian’s ear and dropped his voice very low. “—But would you kindly put that tongue of yours to better use?”

Before he could even finish the thought, Marik smiled widely and dropped back under the covers like a deep-sea diver looking for treasure. The blond didn’t always listen to Bakura’s not-so-subtle hints that he needed attention to certain areas – especially after learning how much fun it was to draw out the experience, making the spirit utter the most delectable sounds – but thank Ra this was one of those blessed few times he did as he’d been asked.

Almost immediately, Bakura felt a familiar grip on his now-engorged cock and waited for the blond’s wet, inviting mouth to expertly take him to the heights of ecstasy. He waited. And waited. And waited.

After several moments of inaction, the spirit’s impatience turned into genuine worry – people didn’t suffocate under duvets, did they? Bakura groaned at the realisation that what he had taken to calling “Marik logic” was starting to enter his own head after so many months – and he made to reach down and pull the covers up to investigate.

“Marik? Are you—”

No sooner did the spirit speak than that familiar mouth finally connected with pale flesh – just in an altogether different area than expected.

Oh. _Ohhhhh_.

He felt the Egyptian’s tongue tease the outside of his entrance – making tentative, languid strokes along the sensitive skin. He lapped with no discernible pattern and pressed his teeth in maybe a little too much and _Gods_ Bakura didn’t want this attention to ever end. The spirit had been caught completely by surprise at the gesture, and so cried out at almost full-volume from the get-go.

“Just— Just like that, Marik— Bloody fucking hell—!”

At the sound of his partner clearly enjoying himself, the blond worked faster and with more purpose. The hand wrapped around Bakura’s cock began to stroke in time with his tongue – which now pressed into the hole slightly to tease the ring of muscle. The spirit practically screamed and reached behind him to grab onto the headboard with both hands – near pushing down onto Marik’s face just so he could feel _more, more, more_.

“Keep going— Please—”

For the second time that day, Marik gave in easily to his friend’s desires. Bakura felt the Egyptian’s warm tongue surge forward as far as it could inside – opening him up and exponentially building his arousal by the second. He howled in pleasure and thrust his lower body up and down – the hand around his erection continued to pump without abandon, and the spirit suddenly thought how much he wanted to see the blond’s face _right the fuck now_.

He removed one hand from the headboard and threw the duvet off the bed in a single motion. The Egyptian – hair a mess, eyes glazed over with lust, cheeks blushing like mad – stared back in shock for all of two seconds before reaching to grab Bakura’s free hand. He laced their fingers together – the gentleness of the gesture all but obliterated once the tongue occupied with the spirit’s puckered entrance licked its way up to his pink shaft to take in the precum leaking from the overly-sensitive head.

“I’m— I'm so fucking close—!”

At the same time that Marik’s lips finally wrapped around the needy length, two fingers wiggled their way inside the saliva-coated hole and almost instantly found the spirit’s prostate – they rubbed against it in time with each suck around the swollen cock. Bakura couldn’t focus on where the intensity was building more – it was all so good, he could barely form half-coherent sentences as he wailed without shame.

“Make me come— Ohhhh, please— Fuck, Marik, fuck—”

He felt lavender orbs watching the whole time as the blond took him all the way down his throat – after months of exploring each other’s bodies, Marik knew _exactly_ how to make Bakura scream. The spirit did his best to match his partner’s gaze – all while still holding hands to heighten their connection – but closed his eyes at the final moment when he felt himself begin to tense. The heat around his member, the skillful tongue occasionally licking across his slit, the fingers pounding into the nerves below – it was any wonder he'd lasted _this_ long.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck— Ahhh!”

Bakura came harder than ever before down Marik’s mouth, and nearly broke the headboard – and his friend’s hand – as he convulsed and rode out the feeling for what felt like hours. The spirit didn’t know how long it really lasted, but when he finally came down and opened his eyes, he saw the blond hovering above him – a look of concern plastered on his completely wrecked, panting face.

“Geez, you sure you weren't a sailor in your past life, Fluffy? I thought I might've broken you.”

“I told you. I don’t break easily.” Bakura made to move his hand down to the obvious hard-on between his friend’s legs – but felt the fingers slapped away. “Don’t you want—”

“I wanted to surprise _you_ this morning.” Marik leaned down to offer quick kisses in-between each word – hands massaging through the still-short hair.

“Fair enough. Can't say I mind.” The tan fingers on his scalp continued to stroke and caress – neither even considered where those digits had been just moments before, nor did they really care. “Never pegged you for having a hair fetish, Marik. You never cease to surprise me.”

“Well, it’s your original hair. I wanted to know how beautiful you’ll look when I bring you back.” Bakura tried unsuccessfully to hide the blush creeping over his pale face from the compliment - Marik certainly had a way with words, especially when it came to showing his affection for the spirit.

“But you do realise that it’s not just the hair that’ll be different?”

"Of course, Bakura! I’m not a _complete_ idiot, you know. I just play one.” Bakura almost did a double-take at his friend’s self-awareness. Perhaps it wasn’t just Marik influencing the spirit’s mind – maybe the reverse had happened, too. “Why do you think I asked all those frigging questions months ago? I’ll love you no matter how you look, but I just wanted to be prepared.”

Something about Marik’s answer made the spirit’s breath hitch. The realisation that they were closer than ever to being separated – now that the world was open for business and the “plot,” as it was, could continue – ran through Bakura’s mind. He had to tell his partner the news.

“You should know, Marik—” Bakura swallowed and drew up all the resolve he could muster. He stared at the Egyptian’s lovely lavender eyes – which ironically _did_ remind him so much of his own back in the day – and ran a hand through golden hair to ground himself. “—We’re allowed to go back outside now.”

Bakura expected perhaps a big declaration or boundless excitement or something similarly outlandish, as was typical for his friend. Instead, his tan face seemed to drop slightly – the spirit had learned over the course of these many months that a despondent Marik was one of the few things in the world to genuinely make his stolen heart break a thousand times over, and this was no exception.

“Oh.” The blond instinctively pulled himself closer to the spirit beside him. “The crow virus is gone?”

“So far as anyone can tell.” Bakura met Marik’s actions and held onto the Egyptian like a lifeline. “Mind you, we’ll have to get this new vaccine, but—”

“I don’t want to go out.”

Now _that_ was a surprise. The spirit pulled back to read his partner’s face. Had someone come in the middle of the night to replace his lover with a copy that didn’t jump at the first chance of going outside? Bakura internally cursed spending months on end with Marik in this one regard – the fool really _had_ gone and imprinted his strange sense of reason onto his own brain.

“You don’t? I’d have thought you of all people—”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, Bakura! I _do_ want to. It’s been a long time in here. Not that I haven’t really enjoyed it. But—” As ever, Marik’s mind seemed to work on overdrive – Bakura gently caressed his head as if to calm the thoughts down. “—I just don’t want to go outside _now_. Not yet, anyway.”

“Is there something else you’d rather do first?” The Egyptian seemed to think hard – or rather, _pretend_ to think hard, as if embarrassed at what he truly desired.

“I— I’d like to just stay here with you. At least for a few more minutes. I—”

The spirit understood in that moment that he and Marik were both avoiding the real conversation – and so made the choice to put it off even further. Bakura tenderly captured his partner’s lips and edged his knee to rub against the tan shaft he’d grown to love almost as much as its owner – eliciting a soft mewl of delight from the blond.

“A few more minutes” turned into the rest of the day. They both knew it was safe to finally go outside – but ironically, they could stand to wait as long as they wanted now.

* * *

It was nearly sunset by the time they finally made it outside – not even bothering to shower or get dressed for such a momentous occasion.

“Go on. The day won’t last much longer.” Bakura gently nudged the stunned blond to venture out first – mostly out of love, because fuck it, he wanted to see his friend smile. Marik tentatively made his way past the opening of their home and stopped as if in disbelief that this was really happening. The spirit came up behind him and wrapped an arm around his lower back. “Was this what it felt like when you first left the tombs?”

“There was a lot more frolicking that day, Fluffy. And yaoi comics. And creepy ghost guys spelling my family’s doom.” Marik matched Bakura’s gesture and wrapped his own arm around the spirit’s shoulder. “You’re with me this time, so it's _much_ better.”

Together, they walked further out into the sandy terrain. Fuck if he knew where exactly Somewhere in Egypt actually was, but Bakura had to admit – he’d never felt such relief at being outside in the enchanting desert before. He could only imagine the feeling was tenfold for Marik.

_Never took you for such a sentimental fellow. Either of you. This lockdown really did change you both._

Bakura sighed at his host's words - deny as he might, there was certainly truth in them. The two thieves shifted to walking hand in hand – not even caring as the sand shifted through their bare feet – and took in the enormity of the land around them. It was easy to forget how big the world was when stuck inside for so many bloody months.

“Hey, Bakura.” The blond didn’t look his way – instead staring as if into the great unknown and pondering all its many possibilities. Though, knowing Marik, he could have easily just been restarting his brain into thinking of new ways to defeat their common enemy. “You know, once you— well, when you eventually have to leave and— and I use my evil genius-ness to find a way to get you back… the Pharaoh will have been defeated by then, right?”

Bingo. Bakura knew his friend too well – and he loved him all the more for that one assurance.

“I suppose so. Bloody plot never changes, remember.” The spirit was about to sigh from the realisation that even when he _did_ return after facing off against the Pharaoh, it would still mean his thousands-year-old vengeance would remain unfulfilled – until a thought struck him, courtesy of the blond’s babbling. “Actually, Marik, think of it this way. If I come back and his highness is stuck forever in the afterlife away from all his pesky friends… _that’s_ quite the revenge all its own, if I do say so myself.”

It was the ultimate retribution, and Bakura was frankly surprised he’d never considered that point-of-view before. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been quick to dismiss Marik’s schemes so many months ago – they truly were ingenious, whether intentionally or not.

“I get that…” For all his subtle genius and sincerity, Marik still seemed unconvinced. “But if he’s vanquished, then what evil schemes can we possibly get up to?! What will we do for the rest of our lives with no reason to terrorise Yugi and his smelly friendship squad?”

It was several moments before the spirit could answer. In all his too-long life, that sense of choice never felt more tangible – not since Marik had vowed to ensure they ended up together no matter what. Bakura knew the game – both literal and metaphorical – would play out as planned. It was only a matter of time. The story had been written long ago – though, more since the mid-90’s, but who was keeping track? – and the heroes would always win.

But… maybe things _could_ change this time. After all, what he and Marik had was no less of a friendship. And after so many months locked up together, they now certainly shared a much-deeper partnership – dare he say, relationship – than any other characters in the whole buggering series.

Bakura trusted Marik. The blond was nothing if not persistent, and the spirit knew he would find a way for them to be reconnected – whether in this plane of existence or another. So he broke the silence with a statement that surprised even himself.

“We’ll do whatever we bloody well want for a change, Marik. We’ve been tied down by plots and contracts and traditions for too long. Let’s write our _own_ story from now on.”

The Egyptian opened his mouth as if to protest the simple answer, but his face calmed as a sense of what Bakura was implying came over him – for once, the blond seemed to know when to shut the _eff!_ up, and he turned away and sniffed as if to hide any trace of tears. The spirit knew Marik – as usual – had gotten overwhelmed again from being outside and being given the chance at free choices and being in love and just _being_. So he simply squeezed their hands together in reassurance.

“Maybe you _do_ have good ideas once in a while, Bakura.” Marik smiled that smile which made the spirit melt every time – it was like the sun itself come down to shine a light into the darkness of his formerly desolate life.

As if he’d rehearsed the move hundreds of times before, Marik rested his head against Bakura’s and stared out at the sun setting over the vast desert expanse. The spirit – having had enough of the view after a while, and desiring an even better one – imitated his actions from many months before by shifting his face into the Egyptian’s shoulder and whispering words of comfort.

“So long as whatever we do… we do it together… this story will always be ours and ours alone.”

It had taken the world literally falling apart, but for the first time in thousands of years – having lived in fragments as an orphan, a thief, part-demon, a spirit, a born-again teenager and a long-suffering partner to the one man who’d unknowingly saved his soul time and time again and would never give up on him – Bakura finally felt at peace.

At least _this_ story would end – and, more importantly, continue for years to come – on their terms. After all they’d been through, it was the only reward they desired for their patience.

Forever and always... he and Marik were going to be just fine.


End file.
